


Wooing the Reluctant

by Makoto_Sagara



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, HP: EWE, Het, Humour, Language, M/M, Out of Character, Pre-Slash, Slash, courting, post—hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-19 15:23:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 59,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makoto_Sagara/pseuds/Makoto_Sagara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is in his twenties and still a virgin, because he doesn't feel much of anything for either sex and is wary about whom he dates thanks to the gossip. Cue Draco doing something different and interesting to attract Harry's attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Read All Interesting New Sources

**Title:** Wooing the Reluctant  
 **Author:** Makoto Sagara  
 **Series:** Harry Potter  
 **Archive** : the usual suspects (ffnet, affnet, Foreverfandom, my site, mediaminer, my update LJ, the thehexfiles, hpfandom, and the harrydraco community on LJ ); anywhere else, please ask first.  
 **Pairing:** Draco/Harry, past Harry+others, past Draco/others  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warnings** : Slash, ooc, angst, language. humor  
 **Disclaimers:** I don’t own Harry Potter and his friends. They belong to a list of people, including the wonderful JKR, Warner Bros, Scholastic Publishing, Raincoat Books, and others. I’m only borrowing them for entertainment purposes. All sexual scenes are between those who are of age to consent.

**Author’s Notes:** I was looking over the Draco-Tops-Harry 2012 Fest prompts on the LJ community of the same name. Sadly, I write too slow to contribute, but some of the prompts were just too good to pass up. This is the prompt from one of my favorite authors, Lomonaaeren: #45 – _Harry is in his twenties and still a virgin, because he doesn't feel much of anything for either sex and is wary about whom he dates thanks to the gossip. Cue Draco doing something different and interesting to attract Harry's attention._ This looks to be humorous and with short-ish chapters, somewhere around twelve in total, but I could be wrong.

** Chapter One – Read All Interesting News Sources -  **

**Nothing is too out there when beginning a courtship.**

When Luna’s father, Xenophilius Lovegood, contacted him about a small story to run in the _Quibbler_ , Harry took a moment to think about it. The celebration for his twenty-first birthday was coming up and he just wanted to ignore everything, but he wasn’t going to get his wish. Besides, he was still wary about talking to Mr. Lovegood since the end of the war. However, he ended up doing it, mainly because Luna also asked him personally.

So, in _The Quibbler_ ’s July issue, Harry Potter spoke to a member of the press for the first time in three years.

Here is an excerpt from that article:   
_Xenophilius Lovegood: Well, Mister Potter, how have you been?_  
Harry Potter: Please, Mister Lovegood, call me Harry. And I’ve been doing reasonably well.  
XL: Are you looking forward to your twenty-first birthday? I understand that there’s going to be a huge celebration party given by the Ministry for the occasion. Are you looking forward to it?  
HP: Hardly. I’d prefer a small party with my close friends attending, truthfully.   
XL: I heard that you’re good friends with Minister Shacklebolt and Deputy Minister Weasley. Is that true?  
HP: Yes, that’s true. I thought that was common knowledge by now.  
XL: So it is. Is that part of the reason why you’re attending the celebration?  
HP: Well, yeah, I guess.  
XL: Now, here’s the question that everyone wants to know: Who will you be taking with you?  
HP: Oh, I’ll be going stag. I’m not seeing anyone right now, so I’m not rushing out to find a date.  
XL: Really? Well, any person would be delighted to escort you, I’m sure.  
HP: Oh, I’m sure they would, but none of them have a single clue as to who I really am.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco sat up as a beautiful tawny owl flew into the open window of his room at Malfoy Manor. It was after eleven in the morning, and he was trying to remember what he’d done the night before. He remembered going out with Pansy, Blaise and Greg to some new club in the new part of young Wizarding London. There’d been many drinks and some attractive people, and Draco was fairly sure that he’d fucked a lovely brunette in the bathroom and gone into a back room with a sexy blond man with the greenest eyes he’d seen on anyone but Potter. However, he was alone when he woke up, the way he liked it.

The owl screeched and he lifted up a long, lean, and pale arm to accept the creature. “Well, Radcliff, I see Pans wasted no time in sending you out this morning,” he drawled around a yawn. “And what do you have there, old boy?”

Draco removed a magazine, the disgusting _Quibbler_ of all things with Potter’s face on it, and a letter in Pansy Parkinson’s flowing script. He ignored the magazine for a moment and turned to the letter to find out why the woman thought he’d even touch the bloody thing. _“Dearest,”_ it began. Pansy was always calling him and the others stupid pet names. _“Normally, I would have just laughed at this as you know I do, but I thought the article with Potter was interesting. The first part is rather boring, of course, but read the last page. Very informative conversation the lunatic is having with dear wee Potter. ~ Pansy.  P.S. Fire-call me when you’re finished.”_

“What could be so bloody interesting that I have to read this rubbish?” Draco asked as he opened the periodical to the appropriate page. After a few seconds of scanning the words, he found out and began laughing.

His mother had just two days previously told him that he was spending too much time with leisure and not enough time doing things that would benefit the tarnished family name. This, this would be an absolute challenge, and if it succeeded, well, the family name would be pulled from out of  dirt and back into the shining sphere of the Wizarding world’s adoration. Now, how to plot this out?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Pansy, I could not think as to why you would bother sending that tripe to me until I actually read the entire article,” Draco said to his friend’s green features in his fireplace.

“I knew you’d love it, Dearest,” she simpered, using a hand to fluff her straight-as-a-pin brown hair. “Who would have thought that our great Saviour wasn’t dating anyone? And for such a seriously pathetic reason.”

“No, it’s not pathetic, Pans. Think about how we twisted the press while we were at Hogwarts,” Draco replied thoughtfully. “Rita Skeeter, that wretched beetle, is still writing article after article of speculation about who Potter takes home, and of course, there’s the lawsuit that the Weasels took out against the _Prophet_ for slander.”

“You’d think Ginevra Weasley would be excited to still have her name attached to Harry Potter,” Pansy said with a snort. “Better than that boring Oliver Wood.”

“No, Wood is a having a good run with the Chudley Cannons as the best Keeper they’ve had in ages, from what I’ve heard, and she’s enjoying her stint with the Holyhead Harpies as Seeker. They’re the picture perfect Quidditch couple.”

“Too bad neither team can win a game.”

“Oh, I agree,” Draco sneered before turning pensive again. “Do you know what Potter is doing for a living? I would have thought he’d apply to be an Auror right after the war. They would have given it to him, no doubt.”

“Oh, they did, but he turned them down, according to Padma Patil.”

“You still talk to her then?”

“Of course, Draco. I never relinquish my sources.” She gave a giggle that sent a shudder through Draco’s barely dressed body. He _hated_ her laugh. “But, she says that Granger said Potter was going to a Muggle university. He wants to be a Mind Healer or some such rot.”

“An admirable goal, I suppose. Who’s the last person Potter was seen with?”

“Actually seen with or rumored? There’s a difference.”

“Actually seen with, Pans. I have no time for rumors.”

“I suppose when he dated Lavender Brown three months ago… No, wait; he was seeing an immigrant from France. Now, what was his name? Jacques? No, Pierre… Pierre Mortmont.”

“What did he look like?”

“Tall, blond, green eyes, very nicely muscled, delicious mouth… I think I dated him a few times last month. Of course, you let him suck your cock last night at _Shack_.”

“Oh, yes, extremely delicious mouth then. But dumb as a box of rocks.” Draco scrunched up his nose. “He wanted me to go home with him.” Pansy laughed and shook her head.

“Good thing you passed on that, Dearest. After Potter refused to sleep with him, he told everyone in the circuit that he was the worst lay he’d ever had.”

“I wonder about that, Pans. It’s hard to decide between cases of he said/he said, but I’m thinking Potter is the more reliable source.”

“Of course, that has nothing to do with the enormous hard-on you have for him every time his picture appears in the paper.”

“Get bent,” Draco snapped.

“Dearest, that is your job, but I’m willing to help you win over your little crush,” Pansy said with a predatory smile.

“I know you are, but what will your help cost me?”

“Oh, not much…”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After his Fire-call with his best friend, Draco took off his robe and took a good look at his nude form. His hair was still sexily mussed from bed. His skin was practically flawless, if one could forget the crisscrossing scars on his chest – a gift from Potter in their sixth year for trying to use the _Cruciatus_ on the other boy – and the ugly, fading Dark Mark on his left arm. He’d retained his Seeker’s build by playing pickup Quidditch games with his friends on the weekends – he was still good enough that scouts came to the pickup games to ask him to join a professional team. And, then there was his greatest feature, in his own humble opinion. His cock was half-hard from just the excitement of putting together a plan to woo Potter, the red crown peeking out from his foreskin and the shaft getting decidedly more noticeable under his scrutiny.

Oh, yes, he was going to win over Potter. There was no other option. And then the Boy Who Lived was going to offer himself to Draco willingly.

That last thought was enough to make his erection complete, and he decided that noon wasn’t too early for a wank in the shower.

TBC


	2. Gather All Relevant Information First

**Title:** Wooing the Reluctant  
 **Author:** Makoto Sagara  
 **Series:** Harry Potter  
 **Archive** : the usual suspects (ffnet, affnet, Foreverfandom, my site, mediaminer, my update LJ, the thehexfiles, hpfandom, and the harrydraco community on LJ ); anywhere else, please ask first.  
 **Pairing:** Draco/Harry, past Harry+others, past Draco/others  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warnings** : Slash, ooc, angst, language, humour, EWE  
 **Disclaimers:** I don’t own Harry Potter and his friends. They belong to a list of people, including the wonderful JKR, Warner Bros, Scholastic Publishing, Raincoat Books, and others. I’m only borrowing them for entertainment purposes. All sexual scenes are between those who are of age to consent.

 **Author’s Notes:** Definitely loving this new story. I’m doomed because I promised not to start any new stuff until I finished at least one of the five WiPs I currently have going on. What’s bad is one is almost done. So, I can stop feeling guilty, right? *cries* Anyway, enjoy! The chapter names are the rules of courtship in the Wizarding world, with little tips starting off the chapter.

** Chapter Two – Gather All Relevant Information First –  **

**There can never be enough information when planning your courtship.**

Draco sighed dramatically as he waited for Pansy at the new “it” café, The Dancing Centaur. He couldn’t understand why anyone would want to name anything after those despicable half-beasts, but the food and the coffee that was served there was divine.

While waiting, he sipped on the best espresso he’d found outside of Rome carefully, rolling the coffee’s rich flavor – chocolate, raspberries, and a hint of vanilla – around on his tongue. _‘Absolutely delicious,’_ he mentally purred, giving a smile that attracted the attention of the group of young witches at the table next to his and making them giggle like idiots.

“You look as if you’re about to come in your pants, Draco,” Pansy’s high voice cut into his happy reverie.

“ _Must_ you be crude, Pans?” he asked, flashing his best friend his patented Malfoy sneer.

“Only when I see you so happy over a cup of espresso,” she retorted sharply while waving a hand regally to catch the attention of the waiter. After ordering a cappuccino for herself and another espresso for her friend, she took a long look at him. “Have you decided just how you’re going to start this crazy new project? I’m guessing sending him a love potion is out of the question.” She gave him an over-exaggeratedly stupid smile that sent his hackles up. She did so love when others thought her a ditzy, materialistic twat.

“Don’t think,” he snarled, sipping the rest of his first drink and putting the tiny cup down on the glass table roughly. “Actually, Pansy, I have thought of the first thing that I’m going to do, but there’s something I must do beforehand.”

“Oh, do tell, dearest!”

“Ah, ah, Pans. That would ruin the surprise,” he said, flashing a shark’s smile. “However, before I put that into play, I need more information about Potter’s recent lovers.”

“Oh, from what I understand, dearest, there’s been no ‘loving’ for him as of yet.”

“Delicious,” he purred, licking his lips in anticipation of being the first to get their hands on Potter’s virgin body. Their drinks were delivered, and Draco took sip of the new espresso, smiling happily for a moment before his face turned serious.  “Regardless, I need a list of who he’s gone out with since school. You can skip the Weasley chit; I have little care for what he did with her.”

“Alright, how soon do you need this, Draco?”

“As soon as possible,” he responded thoughtfully. “When _are_ you and Blaise going to announce your engagement in the papers? It’s useless to hide this from me, Pans.”

“Whenever Zabini agrees to stop being so squeamish about doing so and actually _asks_ me to marry him.”

“Is he still on that rot about ending up like his mother and her seven ex-husbands?”

“Sadly, yes,” the woman said softly, taking a long drink from her cooling coffee. “Truly, I don’t care about his mother’s failed marriages, but he feels he’s doomed to end up like her and is hesitant to even ask me.”

“Hm.” Draco took another drink of his coffee. “You haven’t named your price for helping me yet. So, here’s what I’ll do, Pansy. You get your little birds out there and I’ll browbeat my Blaise into manning up.”

“Deal.” She returned his smile with a happy one of her own before turning to other matters.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Have you lost what little brains you had in that bubblehead of yours, Parkinson?” Draco growled as his best friend just looked at him.

“Now, dearest, I understand that terms aren’t the best-”

“Aren’t the best! Parkinson, you have just whored me out!”

“But think of the ultimate goal, Draco.”

“And you believe that _Potter_ will understand that I _had_ to sleep with his ex? The very same ex that spread vicious rumours about _him_ after he refused to sleep with the tart?”  Draco took a deep breath and leveled his best sneer at her. “Pansy, darling, I wouldn’t sleep with that twink Mortmont for all the money in the Parkinson family vaults. Not even if Merlin himself proclaimed he was the best damn piece of arse on the planet. He’s a bloody moron! Even Weasley is smarter than him!”

“I know that, Draco!” She stood up from the plush armchair she’d commandeered at the beginning of their conversation. “I never told Pierre that there would be sex involved. I only told him that you wanted to meet with him to discuss something.”

Draco waved the offensive piece of parchment that had sent him off on his tirade in her face. “Then, pray tell me, _why_ does this prat think I ‘want his cock’, as he so eloquently says?”

“Because he’s a self-important little shit with an over-inflated ego,” she shot back with a wince at the burning look in Draco’s silver eyes. “About the only thing he has going for him is his body and those eyes.”

“Ah, yes, those eyes,” Draco snarled. “That’s what started this whole bloody mess.”

“Are you talking about Pierre or Potter now, dearest?”

“Mortmont’s eyes pale in comparison to Potter’s eyes, darling… But I was just drunk enough to notice the vague resemblance.” Draco shook his head and ran a hand through his white-blond hair. “Please tell me that there is a way to get around this idiot’s expectations. Otherwise, Pans, I’ll be taking applications tomorrow for a new best friend.”

He watched as her brown eyes began blinking rapidly, signaling that she was trying to fix this disaster as quickly as it had reared its ugly head. “You could always invite him over to the Manor for dinner and conversation and then have one of the house-elves drop a dose of Veritaserum in his drink. I know you still have some left over from when Severus was here.”

“That might work,” Draco muttered appreciatively. “However, I’ll need you here to make sure that he doesn’t get the wrong idea, again.”

“But, dearest, Blaise and I have-” She stopped at the look of pure murder on her friend’s face. “Fine, Blaise and I will be here for dinner. I’ll let him know, but I want a positively _decadent_ chocolate cake for pudding.”

He gave her a fond smile before patting her arm. “Of course, darling. I’ll set Mipsy to it right away.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco grimaced when he noticed the chime in the wards. “He’s here.”

“Dearest, if you don’t at least fake looking happy to see him, he’ll notice that _something_ is wrong,” Pansy whispered.

“I don’t see what the huge deal is,” Blaise said. “He’s not as good looking as Potter, from what I remember from _Shack_. Besides, he’s a slut.”

“Precisely why I wanted you and Pansy here, Blaise,” Draco answered. “I definitely do _not_ want him to think that I invited him here to have sex in the house where my mother resides.”

“Speaking of, where is the old girl?”

“She is off playing nice with Aunt Andromeda and Cousin Teddy.”

“I’ve heard that Potter is Teddy Lupin’s godfather,” Pansy added. “So, maybe it’s all for the best that everyone is on good terms. How well do you get along with your family?”

Draco shrugged. “Moderately well, I suppose. Cousin Teddy is a Metamorphmagus… He attempts to look like me every time I’m there. It’s a little eerie but endearing.”

He blinked when the darker skin man came up next to him and whispered in his ear. “If I didn’t know better, Malfoy, I’d say you’re scared of this blond twink.”

“It’s a good thing you’re stupid then, isn’t it?” Draco shot back viciously. “Shall I tell Pansy why you haven’t proposed to her yet, even though it’s well-known that the two of you are crazy for one another?”

“You wouldn’t!”

Draco raised one blond eyebrow and _looked_ at Blaise. The black wizard turned an interesting shade of grey and his brown eyes appeared pained. “Take care of it, or she’ll know. And if there is one thing scarier than me, it’s a pissed off Pansy.” The other man nodded and backed off, going and wrapping an arm around the slender woman’s waist.

“Master Draco, yous guest is here, sir,” a house elf, Windy, squeaked. The blond held back yet another grimace.

“Show him in, Windy, and then make sure that dinner is set out.”

“Yes, Master Draco,” the elf answered with a curtsey before it popped away to fulfill his orders.

“Then, let’s get this over with.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco could have crowed with glee the moment the rather silly man’s eyes turned dull. “Tell me, Pierre, did you ever have sex with Potter?”

“No,” the man answered in a level baritone. “And I wanted to. His body is rather delightful, but he refused.”

“Did he say why?” Pansy asked.

“He was blushing at the time, but told me that he was a virgin still, and that he didn’t want to have sex with someone he didn’t completely trust.”

Draco grinned, feeling that he was close to the real answer. “And did he tell you why he didn’t trust you?”

“He thought I’d run to the papers and tell them everything for money.”

“And you did it anyway after he refused to sleep with you.”

“Yes.”

The blond narrowed his cold grey eyes at the stupid man sitting, tied with an _Incarcerous_ that Blaise had remembered to cast nonverbally when they began questioning him. “Pierre, I’ll be brutally honest with you. You disgust me. I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last wizard on the planet besides myself. It’s no wonder that Potter declined your charms.” The bound wizard opened his mouth, but a cold glare had him closing his mouth quickly. “Having you suck my cock in the loo of a club does not mean that we’ve had sex, you twit. It just means you’re easy.

“Now, obviously, I cannot let you talk about this to anyone, because, unlike Potter, I _will_ hunt you down to castrate you before I kill you. You should be happy. My father would have just killed you and had your body disappear mysteriously.” Draco smiled frigidly. “He was rather good at that, mind you. However, I’m a little more generous. You’ll make it out of the Manor alive and whole, except for your memories of tonight.” He leaned in close, his hawthorn wand grasped tightly in a white-knuckled grip. “ _Obliviate._ ”

He waited for the man’s head to sag against his chest before whispering in his ear. “You went to dinner out in Muggle London, some Indian place around Kensington. You ordered the chicken vindaloo and hated it. It was horrid and you’re never going there again. Afterwards, you took in a movie at the theatre nearby, some American comedy that you found decent because the lead reminded you of Potter. Then, you went home and wanked yourself unconscious. If someone asks you about dinner at Malfoy Manor, you will tell them you lied because you wanted me after the club the other night. Understand me, Pierre?”

“Yes.” Draco called Windy and gave the elf instructions to drop the man in some back alley of Muggle London as soon as possible. Windy gave a squeak of acknowledgement and disappeared with the dazed, and now unbound, wizard with a loud ‘pop’.

“So, Draco, what do you plan on doing with this information?” Blaise asked after a few minutes of strained silence.

“Right now, not much, but it does help with my plan,” the blond said. “I only require the rest of Pansy’s information from his other lovers. But, I believe I owe Pans her _decadent_ chocolate cake. Mipsy!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Later that night, Draco sat at the desk in his study, looking over the reports Pansy had owled him when she got home from the Manor. They all said the same thing. Potter hadn’t been serious about any of his former paramours, because he felt he could not trust them. His eyes became stormy as he looked at the last report, detailing Potter’s relationship with Ginevra Weasley. They’d had a year and a half engagement, which took place directly after his defeat of the Dark Lord, but ended before she accepted the position of Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies. It wasn’t long after his engagement ended so anti-climatically that Potter began studying Psychology at a Muggle university in London, while attending Healer classes at St. Mungo’s.

He was serious about becoming a Mind Healer. One of his exes, Lavender Brown to be precise, asked him why he wasn’t in training to be an Auror. When he explained that he wanted to help people but was tired of fighting, the girl gave him a vacant stare. Potter had broken up with her the next day.

Draco had to admire the man’s resolve. It was obvious that he knew _exactly_ what he wanted in a partner – attractive, intelligent, self-sufficient, and someone with a profession or hobby that took up time that would keep them busy with their own interests. The last made the blond frown and tap his wand against his sharp jawline – the wand that Potter had stolen from here in one of the many parlours during their aborted seventh year at Hogwarts during Easter holidays and returned after the trials that set himself and his mother free and his father to Azkaban for life. Draco _did_ manage the Malfoy investments, which were still vast, even after paying a hefty sum to the Ministry in reparations to rebuild the Wizarding world, but he somehow doubted that Potter would feel that was enough to occupy Draco’s attention. And truthfully, it wasn’t.

He looked at the picture of his mother, aunt and cousin – who was sporting green eyes and white blond hair – and smiled. It was perfect, and admirable, if he was honest. Yes, it was just enough to get Potter’s attention and to give him something else to do with his time. And that would make his mother happy, especially when he told her about the rest of his plans.

With a smirk, Draco pulled out a few pieces of parchment to draft some letters. It was going to be a while before he went to sleep that night, but Potter was more than worth one night’s lost sleep.

TBC


	3. Declare Your Intentions Up Front

**Title:** Wooing the Reluctant  
 **Author:** Makoto Sagara  
 **Series:** Harry Potter  
 **Archive** : the usual suspects (ffnet, affnet, Foreverfandom, my site, mediaminer, my update LJ, the thehexfiles, hpfandom, and the harrydraco community on LJ ); anywhere else, please ask first.  
 **Pairing:** Draco/Harry, past Harry+others, past Draco/others  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warnings** : Slash, ooc, angst, language, humour, EWE  
 **Disclaimers:** I don’t own Harry Potter and his friends. They belong to a list of people, including the wonderful JKR, Warner Bros, Scholastic Publishing, Raincoat Books, and others. I’m only borrowing them for entertainment purposes. All sexual scenes are between those who are of age to consent.

 **Author’s Notes:** And just what does Draco have planned? Well, this starts his plans. Thanks to Skeren Dreamera for helping me with the Rita article. I hate her, and Sky made it work beautifully! Any guesses on what Draco’s going to do next?

** Chapter Three - Declare Your Intentions Up Front  
** **This way, your intended cannot say they had no idea what you meant.**

**_ Exclusive: Lord Malfoy Declares Intent to Court Saviour _ ** _  
by Rita Skeeter_

_As you might have guessed, I had the extreme pleasure of sitting down with the handsome Draco Malfoy a few days ago for an interview. We met at the stately Malfoy Manor, the man himself greeting me at the door to lead me through the gorgeous rooms and into a beautiful conservatory that overlooks the extensive gardens surrounding the property. He looked quite at ease sitting in the sunlit room and his smile was warm for this humble reporter._

_"Lord Malfoy, I must say that your home is absolutely lovely." The tea that had been arranged was absolutely wonderful as well. Only the best out of a Malfoy, as you all might expect._

_"Thank you, Miss Skeeter. I shall pass along your kind words to my mother."_

_"Now, not that I don't enjoy your company, Lord Malfoy, but may I ask as to why you requested this interview?"_

_"That's simple, Rita. I would like the Wizarding world to know that I intend to woo our very own Boy Who Lived." At this point he gave me a smile that would melt steel with its warmth. It's pretty safe to say that I may have melted, just a little._

_"Well, that certainly is news," I said. "Is there a particular reason? Please don't take this badly, but the rivalry between yourself and Harry Potter while you attended Hogwarts is infamous."_

_He laughed softly before turning his stunning silver eyes on me, his face very serious. "That is true, but since we are no longer children or students, but men grown up, I'd like to put that behind us."_

_"And you believe a formal courtship is the way to do so?" I was caught speechless, to say the least, by his reasoning, but the very thought of the handsome Lord Malfoy with our extremely attractive Boy Who Lived intrigued me._

_"Oh, no, the way to do so is to spend the time to get to know the real Harry Potter, of course. The courtship is because I find that he is absolutely gorgeous and no one but he can be my equal."_

_There you have it, folks. Draco Malfoy tells us all how to win over our very own Harry Potter, but he did warn me that should someone attempt to poach where he is hunting, they will find it to be a stiff competition. With his extensive knowledge of esoteric magic, I see many duels ending in the young Lord's favor, should it come down to that. I, for one, wish him much luck in his plans to win over Mr. Potter, who is notoriously choosy and has had more than his fair share of heartache in the last few years. After his famous breakup with his now ex-fiancée, the beautiful and spirited Ginevra Weasley, he is seldom seen in the company of other witches or wizards for very long. (For more, see page four.) If nothing else, he deserves the happiness of a relationship that his parents, James and Lily Potter, shared before their untimely deaths at the hand of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

_I leave you with Mr. Malfoy's parting words. "Harry Potter is an intelligent, handsome and kind individual, who has had a rough life and needs someone who loves and respects him to spoil him. I am that someone."_

**_ Exclusive:  Lord Malfoy Donates 300,000 Galleons to War Orphan Fund and Is Named to Board of Directors _ ** _  
by David Honeycomb_

_A press release issued by Gregory C. Crabemyer last night has named Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy as the newest, and youngest, member of the Board of Directors for the_ Potter-Lupin-Black Fund for War Orphans _. Mr. Crabemyer was only too happy to announce the young aristocrat's joining of the prestigious foundation, which was started at the end of the Second Voldemort War by Mr. Harry James Potter and his friends. Since its inception, the fund has set up four orphanages for children of the fallen on both sides of The Second Voldemort War or children whose parents no longer wanted them. It has also facilitated over 100 adoptions in its three year history, a previously unheard of number._

_As well as Lord Malfoy's appointment, he donated 300,000 Galleons to the organization. He stated, "My cousin, Teddy Lupin, lost both of his parents in the Final Battle at Hogwarts. If not for my aunt Andromeda Black-Tonks still being alive, he might not have had anywhere to go. The thought of other innocent children living on the street or in abusive homes is deplorable. They are citizens of our world, and it is our duty to take care of them as much as possible._

_"The story of Mr. Harry Potter's abusive Muggle relatives has become common knowledge in the last few years. We need to make sure that this never happens again. He was a magical child, born to two magical parents, and should have stayed within the Wizarding community. Not only that, but his Muggle relatives should have been investigated before they were given over the care of the child that defeated Lord Voldemort. Instead, his care was decided by the headmaster of Hogwarts, who clearly chose poorly, and he was left there for years of verbal, mental, emotional, and sometimes physical abuse with no regular check ins._

_"It is time that we say never again and as a community take a more active role in helping orphaned children._

_"Also, I have proposed that we start an investigation into Muggle-born children's homes to see that they are properly cared for, both before and during their time at Hogwarts. We have these names on the list in the headmaster's office. They appear as soon as the child is born, so there should be no excuse._

_"Hopefully, we can stop the situations which fostered not only Harry Potter, but also Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort. If Mr. Riddle had received an early intervention by the Wizarding community, he might not have become such a twisted individual."_

_Certainly, after reading Lord Malfoy's words, I can only wish him luck in his endeavors and look forward to seeing his plan being implemented. An attempt was made to reach Mr. Harry Potter to get a statement, but his solicitor has told_ TheDaily Prophet _that Mr. Potter has no comment on Lord Malfoy's actions and this does not affect his own projects with the fund._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco stretched languidly as he looked at the front page of _The Daily Prophet_ , where a picture of his own face smiled back at him. _‘Absolutely perfect,’_ he thought. _‘I couldn’t have done better if I’d written the two articles myself.’_ He sighed as he looked at the picture they chose of Potter, however. It had to have been a stock photograph. Potter was trying to duck the photographer and he was wearing the most unattractive scowl, but his eyes, those deliciously perfect green eyes, burned with a fierceness that Draco had never been able to avoid.

His lips twitched into a smug smile as he stared at the picture of his Intended. _‘Soon, Potter, you will be mine.’_

He placed the newspaper on the breakfast table before him and stood up. He had to break the news to his mother before she got her hands on the paper. She wouldn’t forgive him if she had to find out from others what her only child had planned for their family.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Well, dearest, I’m at a loss for words,” Pansy said when she and Blaise joined Draco and his mother for lunch later that day. “The articles were absolutely brilliant.”

“Did you really mean all that rubbish about Potter and Riddle’s upbringings, though?” Blaise asked, shaking his head of full, black curls.

“Certainly, Blaise,” Draco drawled, patting his face with his napkin as he finished his vichyssoise. “Imagine life if Riddle hadn’t been neglected by Dumbledore. There may not have been a Dark Lord at all, and our lives would have been drastically different.”

“You bring up many valid points, darling,” Narcissa added in a cool tone. “But, do you believe it is absolutely necessary to court Mr. Potter?”

 “Absolutely? No, Mother, perhaps it is not absolutely necessary to do so,” he answered kindly. “However, it is something that I _want_ to do.”

“Then, I wish you luck, my darling,” she responded before standing from the table. Draco and Blaise both stood, and the show of manners brought a smile from the stately woman. “It is nice to see you again, Blaise.”

Draco watched as his dark-skinned friend moved to place a kiss on Narcissa’s hand before she left and smiled. “Mother is quite happy that you have finally asked Pansy to marry you, Blaise.”

To his credit, Blaise’s eye twitching was the only outward sign of his annoyance at Draco’s comment as they took their seats again. “How could I not?” he asked, sending a soft glance at his beaming fiancée. “She is far too good for me, and I am honored that she accepted.”

“Really, Blaise, flattery will get you everywhere,” Pansy simpered, the light blush on her pale cheeks ruining her cultivated calm. “But, I can’t say that I’m not pleased.”

“Have you planned the date then?” Draco asked, pleased that his dearest friend was so happy.

“Not yet, but we were thinking-” She was cut off by the approach of an unfamiliar owl. “Who in the world owns that _thing_?”

Draco looked up as a small grey fluff ball dropped a scrap of paper before his lunch plate. He barely dodged the animal as it tried to bite him before it took off, after covering the table in an amazing amount of pellets. With a lazy flick of his hawthorn wand, Draco Vanished the mess and picked up the letter. He smiled triumphantly at the single line before handing it to Pansy. “It’s Potter’s response to the articles.”

“All it says is _‘Nice try, Malfoy. Get lost.’_ How can you be sure it’s from him?” the woman asked, showing the letter to her fiancé.

“I’d recognize his pathetic scrawl from anywhere, Pansy darling,” the blond said with a smirk. “After the Wizengamot cleared my mother and me of all charges, she insisted that I write a letter of thanks to Potter for his assistance.” Draco shook his head in amusement. “He told me that I could ‘stuff my thanks and become a decent human being’ in the same wretched handwriting. And it was delivered by that same creature as well.”

“Whose owl _is_ that, anyway?” Pansy asked with a smile at her friend’s fond look.

“If I’m not mistaken, it belongs to Weasley,” Blaise answered. “I seem to remember he had that thing back at school.”

“Whatever happened to the beautiful snowy owl Potter owned?” she asked, frowning.

“I believe it was murdered on his birthday by the Dark Lord,” Draco said sadly. “Perhaps that should be one of my gifts, hm? Or do you think he’d be offended by that?”

“Why not get him an eagle owl or a falcon? Something beautiful and regal but fierce… Just like your Intended,” Blaise suggested.

“Actually, Blaise, that isn’t a half-bad idea,” Draco answered as he mulled over the possibilities.

“When do you plan to send him the first?” Pansy asked, handing the blond back his love letter from Potter.

“Today, actually,” Draco responded. “He should have already received it. It took me a few days to find the perfect first gift, since the rules _do_ state that the gifts should be interesting, especially if the Intended is hostile.”

“And what did you send him, dearest?”

“That, my dear Pans, you will just have to wait to find out.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry looked around Twelve Grimmauld Place and let out a fierce growl. That prat had sent him a letter with a doll about twelve centimeters in height in his smarmy likeness that was enchanted to sing, dance and hit on him every five minutes. Every attempt the black-haired man made to incinerate, freeze or Vanish the damn thing had failed, turning his sitting room into a war zone.

Kreacher was currently rushing around the room, trying to put out the flaming couch and repair the cracked vases and picture frames. The elf was muttering under its breath about how “Master Harry should be honoured to have the attentions of the beautiful Malfoy boy” and “how Kreacher would give anything to serve the beautiful Malfoy boy, unlike that ungrateful Dobby”. After the fourth nasty comment against Harry’s beloved Dobby, the wizard had yelled at the old elf, causing the creature to cease commenting as he straightened up the room for his angry master.

“Potter, you are looking decidedly delicious today,” the stupid doll drawled in Malfoy’s arrogant voice before it began serenading him with The Beatles’ ‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand’.  When it was finished, it again drawled out another disgustingly cheesy pick up line. “Your heart must be a portkey, because I keep getting transported into it.” That was closely followed up by ‘You Break My Heart’ by Celestina Warbeck. This was followed by the line of “My Occlumency shields must be slipping because you keep invading my mind.” This was followed by ‘Lovesong’ by The Cure. Which was followed by the line of “Excuse me, can you empty your pockets? I believe you have stolen my heart.” This was followed by the Weird Sisters’ newest hit, ‘Like Phoenix Tears’.

Finally, he cracked. Harry responded by throwing Cutting Curses and other hexes and jinxes through the air. He missed the wretched thing every time and ended up slicing through the heavy green velvet curtains and the window behind them and taking out every other piece of furniture in the room, barely missing Kreacher. He yelled ferociously before picking up the accompanying letter, which he’d failed to notice after the doll had begun singing a Celestina Warbeck love song at the beginning of this horrible morning.

 _‘Potter,_  
‘By now, you will have read of my intents to woo you. As loathe as you are to admit it, you and I are a perfect complement to one another. I meant every word of the article with Skeeter, if one looks beyond her pathetically Hufflepuff wording. You are my Intended, and I will not back down.   
‘I would suggest you begin reading up on Wizarding courting traditions. You might find them enlightening.   
‘Yours,   
‘Draco Lucius Malfoy  
‘Lord Malfoy, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England, UK’

With another growl, Harry stomped his way to the Black family library. Surely, there had to be at least _one_ book on this stupid courting farce that Malfoy was starting. Maybe he could find a way to absolutely refuse to deal with the blond git and move on with his life.

TBC


	4. Be Serious In Your Intentions

**Title:** Wooing the Reluctant  
 **Author:** Makoto Sagara  
 **Series:** Harry Potter  
 **Archive** : the usual suspects (ffnet, affnet, Foreverfandom, my site, mediaminer, makochanupdates on LJ, thehexfiles, hpfandom, and the harrydraco community on LJ); anywhere else, ask first.  
 **Pairing:** Draco/Harry, past Harry+others, past Draco/others  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warnings** : Slash, ooc, angst, language, humour, EWE  
 **Disclaimers:** I don’t own Harry Potter and his friends. They belong to a list of people, including the wonderful JKR, Warner Bros, Scholastic Publishing, Raincoat Books, and others. I’m only borrowing them for entertainment purposes.

**Author’s Notes:** Again, a thousand thanks go to Sky for her help with the Rita article in the last chapter. And so many thanks go to Fallen Angel, Asuka Kureru, and Jamie for their help with Draco’s pick-up lines. It was not as easy as I thought it was going to be at first. Any guesses on what Draco’s going to do next?

** Chapter Four - Be Serious In Your Intentions ** **  
If you are not completely serious, you will fail.**

Draco took a deep breath before knocking on the simple, unassuming door of his aunt’s house. Today was his monthly visit with his young cousin and he was determined to make an impression on both the boy and his grandmother. Yes, he knew that Potter was Teddy’s godfather. Yes, he knew that Potter was suspected to be at Andromeda’s house that day. However, that was _exactly_ why he’d decided to visit on _this_ particular day.

The sound of little footsteps making a racket down the hallway reached his ears, and Draco couldn’t help but smile. His cousin was adorable, not that he would tell anyone. When Teddy mimicked his features, a sense of pride would well up in the blond so strong that for a moment he had to remind himself that he wasn’t a parent, and Teddy was only a Metamorphmagus. The door flew open and he was greeted with a beaming face, bright green eyes and shaggy black hair. “UNCLE Ha…rry,” Teddy started, his face falling as he changed his hair to the nearly white blond of his cousin. “Oh, Cousin Draco,” he said with much less enthusiasm than he’d had when he thought he was greeting Potter.

“Cousin Teddy,” Draco drawled, letting his face quirk into a tiny smile. “I suppose that today is a bad day to see you then?”

“Huh?” The Metamorphmagus blinked green-grey eyes.

“Teddy, is that Harry, dear?” Andromeda asked from the kitchen.

“No, Nana, it’s Cousin Draco,” the little boy answered, moving aside to let Draco enter. The man gave Teddy a wink as he walked past him into the drawing room.

“Oh, Draco,” Andromeda said as she entered the same room, pushing back dark strands of hair behind her ears. “We didn’t know that you were coming.”

“So I gathered,” Draco responded, coming forward to kiss his aunt on her flushed cheeks. “I take it that Potter is coming to spend time with Teddy today, yes?”

“Oh, yes, Harry mentioned something about a movie theatre or the zoo, and Teddy’s been quite wild with impatience ever since,” she said before placing a chaste kiss to her nephew’s cheek. “I was surprised that you didn’t come when Narcissa did last week.”

“I was rather busy then,” Draco said, sitting down on the couch as his aunt waved her wand and a tea service appeared on the battered coffee table. “Pansy was over, and since Blaise still hadn’t proposed to her, she was practically hysterical.”

“Hm,” she muttered as she fixed the tea cups. She placed a cup before him with a slash of milk and three sugars before making Teddy’s, four sugars and no milk, and her own, one sugar and a dash of milk. “I take that your friend has finally gotten over the scandal he caused in Italy to ask Pansy to marry him.”

“Something like that,” Draco answered as he took a small sip of the steaming liquid. “I had to threaten him, to be honest. Pans still doesn’t know what he did, but she really wouldn’t care either way. Blaise is making rather a big deal out of nothing, if you ask me.”

“Well, Draco, an illegitimate affair with a married contessa is hardly nothing,” Andromeda said. “And it led to a divorce for the poor woman.”

“True,” he answered, shooting a fond smile at his young cousin as the boy tried to sip his tea carefully. For a nearly four year old, Teddy was rather mature for his age. Draco guessed that it was because he was being raised by his aunt, who was so serious and down to earth. “However, Pansy’s parents are aware of the situation and hadn’t barred them from dating, so Blaise was worried about that for nothing.”

“I suppose so, but if he’s serious about Pansy, then he’s showing some maturity finally.” She leveled hard, dark eyes on Draco, and he found himself sitting up straighter. “Unlike someone in this room.”

“What do you mean?” he asked coyly.

“You know what I’m talking about, Draco Lucius Malfoy. Don’t give me that innocent routine. If it doesn’t work for Teddy, it won’t work for you. That article was hardly mature or helpful. Harry’s been downright frantic because of the mail he’s receiving.”

“Believe me, aunt. It was hardly my intent to have him harassed,” Draco said truthfully. He knew that he couldn’t lie to Andromeda. While she looked so much like Bellatrix that it sent shivers down his back sometimes, she carried herself like his mother, and that was enough to make him take heed to everything she told him. “I am totally serious about my wish to court him.”

He watched as she visibly relaxed. “Well, that’s a bit of a relief, to be honest… But, Draco, do you really understand what Harry’s been through? Blaise’s reputation isn’t the only one that is questionable. I’ve heard stories about your debauchery that turn my stomach. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t let you anywhere near my grandson.”

“Nana,” Teddy shouted, bringing both adults’ attention to the child, who was still sporting white blond locks and that odd mixture of green and grey for his eyes. “Cousin Draco would never do anything to hurt me!”

“I know, sweetheart,” she answered, patting the boy’s hand gently. “I know that Draco loves you and would do everything he could to protect you. That wasn’t what I was saying.”

“She’s just worried about your Uncle Harry, Teddy,” Draco said gently, trying to reassure the little boy that he secretly adored. “She wants him to be happy.”

“Me too,” Teddy responded sadly. “He’s not happy a lot.”

“And that’s what has me worried, Draco. You said in your articles that you understood about Harry’s past, but do you really understand what he’s been through in his life? How can you? You had both of your parents, even though Lucius ended up going to Azkaban after the war. You were loved, spoiled, treated like a prince. Harry was treated no better than the worst house-elf your father owned.”

“I’m aware of that, Aunt Andromeda,” the blond said seriously, trying not to bristle at the way she was determined to throw a flobberworm in his face. “As I said before, I meant every word I spoke when Rita Skeeter interviewed me. Potter is… kind, good, handsome, smart, and powerful. He is _exactly_ the kind of person who would complement me.”

“And what about you to him? Would you be willing to stop your philandering ways and to be faithful to him?”

“I was faithful to Pansy while we were together,” Draco said in his own defense.

“And how long ago was that, Draco? When was the last time you’ve been in a serious relationship?”

“Not since Hogwarts,” he mumbled.

“That’s what I thought,” she said gently, patting his hand the same way she had Teddy. “I’m not saying this to discourage you, Draco. A part of me hopes that you are correct and that you could make Harry happy. I just want to make sure that you are completely serious about this, because if you hurt him, I will make sure the Malfoy line ends with you, nephew or not.”

“Would you be willing to rid me of him now, Andromeda?” a deep voice asked amusedly. The group at the table looked up to find Potter leaning against the doorframe of the Tonks drawing room. The Saviour had his arms folded across his broad chest and a twisted smirk on his lips. “It would save us all a lot of trouble.”

“UNCLE HARRY!” Teddy yelled, launching himself across the room until he was wrapped around his godfather’s legs. “I can’t wait to go. Look, Cousin Draco is here. He can come with us, yes? Please say he can!”

And as Draco stared at the other man, he felt his world narrow down to a pair of bright, smiling green eyes that he didn’t remember being that vivid a shade of emerald. His breath caught in his throat and a heat started to gather in his pale cheeks and ears. No picture taken of the other man since the end of the war had done him justice. His chest, once scrawny and underdeveloped, was broad and well-muscled. His fashion sense still leaned towards Muggle clothing, but the denim trousers he wore now hugged toned thighs and a high arse, while the dark green t-shirt was stretched across his chest tightly. A pair of high-laced black hiking boots completed his ensemble, and Draco found himself struggling to think of anything but, _‘want, want, want, want, want’_.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The blond was probably the last person on Earth that Harry wanted to see. Ever since he’d received that horrible singing, talking _doll_ that looked and sounded just like him, the black-haired wizard had had no rest. With the help of Hermione, he’d found a charm that would make the thing temporarily disappear so that he could go out shopping and spend time with Teddy, but as soon as the four hours of the charm were up, the doll would reappear, seemingly much more annoying for the break that he’d gotten.

However, Harry understood that he had two options. He could accept Malfoy’s courtship and the blond would make the damn thing disappear completely. Or, he could tell the blond to stuff it and force Malfoy to take the annoyance with him, after hexing him within an inch of his life. The second had held a lot of charm for Harry. Until he’d listened into Malfoy’s conversation with Andromeda.

He’d never seen this side of the arrogant, handsome, charming Slytherin. He seemed almost… _vulnerable_. To say that it was unexpected would have been an understatement, and brought back memories of how Malfoy had appeared during their sixth and failed seventh years at Hogwarts. And it didn’t hurt that those cold grey eyes that he’d remembered seemed to be simmering with unbridled desire as he stared at Harry.

It was true that many people had stared at Harry like that over the years, both Muggle and magical, but none with the burning intensity that Malfoy seemed to possess. That look made something dormant in Harry wake up and coil tightly in his belly, but it also put all of his instincts to stay away from his former boyhood rival on high alert.

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to see you, Malfoy, but we’re both aware that that would be a bald-faced lie,” he said, bending down to pick up his godson, who was still wrapped around his legs.

“Uncle Harry,” Teddy started sternly. “You’re supposed to be polite to other people.”

Harry looked at the boy in his arms, a little taken aback by the white blond hair and the grey-green eyes he sported. It was almost as if the Metamorphmagus was trying to be a reconstruction of any child that he and Malfoy might have. It was disturbing, and a tiny bit thrilling at the same time. “You’re right, Teddy. Sorry, Malfoy. How are you?”

The blond closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m doing well, Potter,” he said, standing to hold out his hand. Another time, from long ago, came to Harry’s mind when the other man had done the same thing. This time, however, there was no Ron to prejudice Harry or to set the aristocrat off into a tirade about blood traitors and poor families. “I came to see Teddy and Andromeda, but I’ve been informed that today was your day with my cousin.”

“Uncle Harry, can Cousin Draco come with us? Please say yes! I promise to be ever so good if you do!” Teddy’s eyes turned completely green and got rounder as he stared at his godfather. It was extremely irresistible.

“Have you asked him if he wants to come with us today? We’ll be out with Muggles, you know,” Harry reminded the boy gently.

“Please come, Cousin Draco,” Teddy begged prettily. Harry looked over at the boy’s grandmother, who seemed to be watching the whole situation with a pleased and amused smile on her regal face.

“And just where would we be going, you little monster?” Malfoy asked teasingly, making Teddy giggle.

“Dunno,” the child answered.

“I was planning on taking him to the zoo,” Harry answered truthfully, watching the other man for any signs of distaste. “Teddy’s been asking about animals, and I figured now would be the best time for me to take him, since I don’t have any summer classes right now.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco was torn. This was going better than he expected. Truthfully, he’d been waiting for his meeting with Potter to break out in hexes and a trip to St. Mungo’s for himself since he’d sent that gift to the former Gryffindor. What he hadn’t counted on was Teddy’s helpful interference. His cousin was proving to be a valuable ally in his courtship, and he wasn’t above using the excuse of spending time with the boy if it helped along his own plans for Teddy’s godfather as well.

“That sounds like a good idea,” he said carefully, watching Teddy and Potter for any changes in their expressive faces as he talked. “And I would be delighted to spend any time with Teddy. He is the reason that I came over today, after all.”

“Yay,” the child yelled, squirming in Potter’s arms as he tried to get down so he could attach himself to Draco as well. “This is going to be so much fun, Nana. Do you want to come too?”

Andromeda, who had been mostly forgotten while Draco and Potter figured things out, laughed cheerfully. “Oh, no, sweetheart, your grandpa Teddy took me and your mum to the zoo all the time when she was a little girl. I’m quite full of all the animals by now. Besides, I’m going to visit your Aunt Narcissa while you’re away.”

“Oh, Aunty ‘Cissa,” Teddy said, his face falling immediately. “I wish she could come too. I think she’d like the kitty house that Aunty ‘Mione told me all about yesterday.”

“I’m sure she would, and I will mention that to her myself, but why don’t you enjoy spending time with Harry and Draco, hm?”

Draco leaned in close so that he could whisper in Teddy’s ear, and get a better feel for the man holding him at the same time. “Maybe, one day soon, your Nana would let me take you to Malfoy Manor. We have white peacocks that roam the grounds, and my mother has just purchased some Kneazle kittens that I’m sure you’d love.”

“Kittens?” Teddy asked, green eyes gleaming hopefully. “I love kitties, Cousin Draco.”

“I know,” he answered, taking a deep breath so that he could inhale the intoxicating nearness of the _gorgeous_ Saviour. “Don’t tell your Nana, but Mum got one just for you.”

The little boy responded by breaking out into a toothy grin and launching himself out of Potter’s grasp so that he could wrap his tiny arms around Draco’s neck. Astonished at the show of affection that Teddy only usually showed when he was leaving, Draco slowly brought his arms around to hug the child tightly. Something in him seemed to relax as he held his young cousin, and he lifted heavy eyes to see Potter smiling at the two of them fondly.

While this day was turning out to be far from expected, Draco was okay with that. He’d get to spend time with his cousin and his Intended. He’d found out that Potter had grown up _hot_ as well as the other things he’d told his aunt. And, he’d won a sort of approval from him by being himself with Teddy. So far, it was even better than he’d planned.

TBC


	5. Do Not Allow Your Intended to Back Out

**Title:** Wooing the Reluctant  
 **Author:** Makoto Sagara  
 **Series:** Harry Potter  
 **Archive** : the usual suspects (ffnet, affnet, Foreverfandom, my site, mediaminer, makochanupdates on LJ, thehexfiles, hpfandom, and the harrydraco community on LJ); anywhere else, ask first.  
 **Pairing:** Draco/Harry, past Harry+others, past Draco/others  
 **Rating:** NC-17 (eventual; this chapter PG)   
**Warnings** : Slash, ooc, angst, language, humour, EWE  
 **Disclaimers:** I don’t own Harry Potter and his friends. They belong to a list of people, including the wonderful JKR, Warner Bros, Scholastic Publishing, Raincoat Books, and others. I’m only borrowing them for entertainment purposes.

 **Author’s Notes:** Thank you to all of my reviewers! Your kind words mean so much to me as I work on this. It’s definitely a nice break from my other works, which are rather heavy at this point in time. And many, many thanks to Skeren Dreamera for helping me get passed the block that this play date seemed to have caused. Silly Harry and Draco did not make it easy!

**Chapter Five - Do Not Allow Your Intended to Back Out.  
Timid lovers are fine, but persistent lovers are the winners.**

However Draco thought his day with Teddy was going to turn out; it certainly hadn’t been like this. He was on a tentative date with his Intended, while his young cousin danced and pranced about like one of the animals he was making a huge fuss over. Not that the blond would have taken back accepting the scamp’s heartbreakingly adorable invitation, mind you.

His other companion, the handsome and _delicious_ smelling Potter, was spending most of the time looking everywhere but at Draco. He would have been offended, if he couldn’t see and feel the tense way the other man held himself as they walked side-by-side. If only he would _say_ something, then perhaps this wouldn’t be so awkward.

“What do you hope to gain by this stupid stunt, Malfoy?” Potter asked as they stopped in front of the lion enclosure. The blond was forced to look at the Gryffindor’s profile, and he found it just as delicious as being able to look at him full on.

“This is neither stupid, nor a stunt, _Harry_ ,” Draco said eventually, shaking his head to clear it of the desire that was threatening to break free. How he yearned to reach out and grab the other man and take him _right there_ , public place or not; it was enough to nearly overwhelm him. “I am completely serious in my intent to woo you.”

“But it’s right stupid,” Harry growled, keeping a close eye on Teddy, who was tapping at the glass as the large cats lazed about on sun-warmed rocks. “We don’t even _like_ each other.”

Draco allowed a brief smile to grace his face as he thought. “I think we’re a little beyond simple like or dislike, Harry,” he said. “You and I seem to find ourselves continually thrown into each other’s ways. I am simply choosing to… speed up the process.”

“You don’t even _know_ me,” Harry shouted, making the people around them stare briefly before going about their business. The black-haired wizard blushed in embarrassment, much to Draco’s delight. It added a certain charm to his ruggedly handsome face. “That stupid article was utter bollocks, and you know it.”

“Why does everyone think I was anything but sincere when I gave that interview?” Draco asked rhetorically. “Look, Potter, you and I cannot avoid one another. We’re rich, powerful, handsome and well-sought after. It was inevitable that we would fall in each other’s way again. Besides, you’re the godfather of my cousin, who I happen to rather think well of, regardless of his parentage.”

“And that’s how you think of Teddy then?” Potter growled, practically oozing danger. “That he’s just some sub-human, part-werewolf spawn?”

“Please, don’t be stupid, Potter,” Draco shot back, feeling as if the other man had smacked him full across the face. “Theodore is a charming, sweet little boy, who is my cousin’s child with a werewolf.” He smiled as he watched the child they were speaking of tapped the glass enclosure harder, determined to get attention from the ‘pretty kitties’. “I happen to be rather fond of him, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Potter didn’t answer, instead staring off with his jaw clenched. “He’s my godson, and I’ve told Andromeda that I have no intention of taking him from her, even though I’m sure she’s terrified that I will take the last of her family away.”

“Actually,” Draco said eventually. “My aunt is rather afraid that I am only out to court you so that I can harm you.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No,” the blond drawled. He was very irritated at having to repeat himself so much. “As I have _already_ said, my whole purpose for wooing you is because I find you attractive, smart, and rather the only person who doesn’t suck up to me for my name and money. It’s quite refreshing, isn’t it?”

The blush he received in answer was enough for his ego, and he wisely didn’t press the issue. After Teddy had had his fill of the lions, he ran up to the two men and wrapped his tiny arms around Draco’s legs. “Cousin Draco, Nana told me they have wolves here. Can we see them? Please?” And even if Draco _had_ been ready to tell the boy no, the wide green eyes silently pleading with him did him in.

“Certainly, Teddy,” he answered, lifting the little boy up and standing. “Your Uncle Harry will have to show us where it is, however. I’ve never been here myself.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The three spent a fair amount of time watching animals, and Teddy spent a great deal of time trying to coax the wolves closer to the bars of their cages to play until Harry took his hand and explained that that would be dangerous to everyone involved. Draco watched with an amused air, noting the way the man deftly handled the irritated child. It was after the wolf incident that he mentioned lunch as a distraction, and he was pleased to note that his Intended jumped on it like a lifeline.

When Harry handed him a hamburger in paper wrapping, Draco raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Don’t make fun. Just eat it, Malfoy. It’s rather good,” Harry scolded while placing what appeared to be fried chicken pieces in front of Teddy with chips and a syrupy drink to round out the boy’s meal.

“It appears to be beef, cheese, some sort of condiment, wilted lettuce, an overripe slice of tomato and a red onion slice,” Draco assessed. “And it’s dripping.”

“Then, don’t take it out of the wrapper completely,” the black-haired man snapped. “Honestly, Malfoy, I know that you don’t eat Muggle food, but it’s quite good and inexpensive. Well, it would be if everything here at this zoo wasn’t totally overpriced.”

“Uncle Harry, why do you keep calling Cousin Draco by his last name?” Teddy asked around a mouthful of chicken. “Nana says that you’re supposed to be nice to people you know.”

“And your nana is right, Teddy,” Harry answered, “but Malfoy and I aren’t friends, even if we have known each other for a long time.”

“Teddy, what your Uncle Harry is trying to say is that we didn’t always get along when we were children, and I’m trying to take the opportunity now to get to know him,” Draco said before Potter could pollute his cousin’s mind with nasty words about how he’d been as a teenager.

“Oh…” The little boy looked at the paper cup holding his drink and then frowned. “What does opportunity mean?”

Draco watched as Potter floundered as he thought, and decided that he’d take mercy on the other man. He wanted to win him over, after all, not alienate him or make him feel stupid. “It means a good chance, Theodore.”

Teddy scrunched up his nose. “I hate it when anyone calls me that. Nana only calls me that when she’s upset. Like the time I painted all the walls in my playroom bright orange.” He smiled widely before gobbling down the rest of his food. “May I go play with the other kids, Uncle Harry?”

“Yes, Teddy, but make sure that you come right here when I call,” Potter answered. Teddy gave out a whoop of joy and ran full tilt to the playground equipment that was crawling with children of all ages.

When Draco was sure that Teddy wasn’t going to return right away, he turned to the other man. “Since you are so sure that we don’t know one another, I propose an exchange of information.”

“You mean a little tit-for-tat?” Potter said as his face scrunched up in thought.

 _‘Oh, Potter, you make that sound so appealing, but I’m sure that’s not what you really meant,’_ Draco thought sadly. “If one must say it like that, then yes. How would you like to begin?”

“Er, I guess,” his Intended said, running a hand through his perpetually messy black hair. “When did you start coming to see Teddy and Andromeda?”

“Mother decided that after the war that she wanted to reconnect with the last of the living Blacks. Father was in Azkaban to serve his life sentence. I was wandering aimlessly and didn’t see any reason to discourage her, since she was so upset. After a few visits, Mother begged me to come along. Truthfully, I hadn’t given any thought to that part of my family, ever, but it made Mother so happy. Aunt Andromeda was a surprise though. I thought she was Bellatrix returned from the dead,” Draco finished with a chuckle.

“Oh, yes, I pulled my wand out on her the first time we met. It was only her husband, Ted, that kept me from blasting her into next year,” Potter said with his own chuckle.

“Once I saw Teddy, it was love at first sight.” Draco sighed, knowing that he was giving more than he’d previously thought he’d have to this early in the game, but Potter had _never_ played by the rules. “I’d always wanted siblings growing up, but that was impossible. Mother couldn’t have more children. So, when I was entrusted with my darling cousin, I was instantly lost.”

“I felt the same way when I first held Teddy. I remember Remus showing me pictures of him when he was a few weeks. He was so proud, I thought he’d burst from it all. And being with Teddy was like having my parents’ friend and Tonks back.”

“Hm,” Draco muttered noncommittally. “My turn, Harry… Why didn’t you become an Auror?”

Green eyes turned on him, making him feel an inch tall. “After it was over, I was so damn tired. I didn’t want to deal with that shit anymore. Not even Kingsley becoming Minister kept me from finding it repugnant to work for the Ministry. So, I started looking at what careers I could use my N.E.W.T.s with. Healing was the next logical step.”

“It goes with your saviour complex then?”

Harry snorted, shaking his head. “I want to help people and be useful. I guess I never really got over seeing what happened to the Longbottoms when I met them in fifth year, and I’d like to find a way to help cases like that. Besides, Mind Healers rarely are called on to save patients at a second’s notice, Malfoy.”

“Draco.”

“What?”

“My given name is Draco. I would prefer it if you would call me by it from now on, _Harry._ ”

“My turn now, Mal-Draco,” he said uncomfortably, blushing and shifting in his seat. “Why are you trying this stupid courting business now?”

“Mother and Pansy have been nagging me for years to actually do something with my life, instead of just waiting for something to happen. I think Mother was hoping that I’d do something with my N.E.W.T.s or volunteer work, but Pansy wanted me to get married.”

"Let me guess, your little announcement ruined her plans to marry her and now I’ll have to watch my back every second until some stupid moron takes pity on her or she’s shipped off to Azkaban for attempted murder?” His tone of voice was bitter, resentful, and just a tad bit jealous. Draco had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep from breaking out into a victorious grin.

“No, nothing as dramatic as that, Harry. My goodness, has that actually happened to you since the end of the war?” He received a dark look in answer and gave a tiny chuckle. “No, Pansy and Blaise Zabini just told me about their engagement a few days ago, actually. I had to force the chap to finally do so, even though he’s been absolutely mad about her for ages.” He leaned back in his chair and looked at Harry for a few quiet minutes. “My turn, did you read up on the courting traditions like I suggested?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry looked up at Malfoy – no, Draco, his mind insisted – before answering. “Yeah, Hermione and I spent two days going over all the books on courting and bonding available in the old Black library.” He sighed heavily. “According to tradition, you have twelve rules to follow, but they never specified how long it would go on.”

The blond _stared_ at him. Those startling grey eyes that up until today had only looked at him with varying degrees of anger, rage, disdain, and disgust over the years they’d known one another were eerily focused on him. Harry found that he couldn’t look away. It was extremely disconcerting. “The courtship goes on as long as it takes for you to agree and consent to the marriage. Until then, I must prove that I am worthy of your time and affection.”

 _‘That has to rankle. Malfoy’s used to getting what he wants when he wants. He’s rich, smart, funny, and good looking –_ when _did I starting thinking that?! He must be used to people throwing themselves at him.’_ Then, something that Harry had heard made him frown. “There are rumours going around about you. I started hearing them during the very _short_ time I dated Lavender Brown. You’re a playboy and a flirt.”

“That’s not exactly a question, Harry,” the other man said softly, never losing that intense look in his eyes. “Why don’t you ask what you want to know?”

“Are they true? Will you really have sex with anyone you find remotely attractive for the night and then move on to the next conquest?” Harry asked heatedly. He was too agitated to investigate _why_ the thought of the blond with anyone else was making him unreasonably upset.

“No,” Draco finally responded. “I have some standards, after all. The person I decide to spend time with must be strikingly attractive.” There was a slight blush to the high cheekbones and the small ears that made the blond look softer somehow, more human and less sculpture-like. “I will admit that I’m no blushing virgin, but I’ve not slept with hundreds of people either.”

“Why me?”

“Why you, Harry? Why not you? You’re handsome, smart, great with children, loyal, heroic to a fault, you have your own money, and you have such exacting standards that no one could possibly live up to them unless you let them,” the blond answered passionately. “Besides that, you are the only person to ever challenge me constantly. You never kissed my arse because of my money or my father’s name. In fact, you only seemed to hate me more once you met Father.”

Harry shook his head, trying to make sense of what the blond was saying. “No, I never hated you for what Lucius did, Draco. I just hated the fact that you seemed to want to be just like him. He nearly killed Ginny in our second year, and after I helped him free D-dobby, he tried to kill me too. It’s only thanks to Dobby’s house-elf magic that I even made it to third year at all.”

Grey eyes blinked in confusion. “So, you’re saying that if I had tried to behave more like my mother and less like my father, we might have been friends at school?”

“I don’t know. The past is past, so it’s useless in trying to discuss the ‘what ifs’ and ‘could have beens’.” Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to figure out is what’s in this stupid courting for me?”

The silence was deafening. For a moment, Harry thought that a Silencing charm had been cast, but he could vaguely hear the children still screaming and the other adults watching the youngsters. It was only the blond who was totally silent. He hadn’t noticed the blond haired, green eyed menace approaching on surprisingly light feet across the rubber flooring of the playground. “Well, Draco, what’s in this for _me_?”

“Everything, you idiot! Everything is in it for you! You’d have exactly what it is that you’ve been telling everyone that you want. Someone who wants you for you. Not your fame, money, name or anything else as asinine and common as that. I. Want. You.” By the time the blond had finished, his hair was less than perfect and his face was flushed in anger. If Harry was honest with himself, the look was perfectly charming and totally attractive. It made him wonder what he’d look like in the throes of passion.

“Cousin Draco, don’t you yell at my Uncle Harry like that!” Teddy yelled, hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. “You’re supposed to be nice to each other! And if you can’t be nice, then you’re supposed to be quiet!”

Harry looked at his godson in shock for a few seconds before bursting into nearly hysterical laughter. Leave it to the child to remind the two of where they were. By the time he managed to control the laughter that was still bubbling beneath the surface, he had to wipe tears away from his eyes. “Teddy, it’s okay. Draco and I end up like this all the time.”

“It’s not right,” the little boy answered.

“You’re right, it’s not,” Harry responded, picking up the boy and hugging him tightly. “Sometimes, adults don’t always remember that they’re adults. I’m sure that your Cousin Draco is sorry that he yelled. Right, Malfoy?”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for reminding me of my manners, Teddy,” the blond said with some dignity. “It’s my turn again, Harry. Explain to me how taking courses at a Muggle university is to help you become a better Mind Healer.”

Harry snorted before standing, intending to go back to Andromeda’s house, but he’d answer the other man’s question as well. “Muggles have two branches of healing that they call Psychology and Psychiatry. The first deals mostly with talk therapy and learning new coping skills. The second deals with assigning medications and behaviour modification. I’m taking courses in the first so that I can incorporate talk therapy with Legilimency to better assist patients. As a Mind Healer, I’d of course be assigning potions, but I’ve also been reading up on Muggle medicines.” Harry smiled as the blond stood up and they all began walking towards the exit of the zoo. It seemed as if his audience was actually interested. “I would never want to have to prescribe them.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, a lot of what Muggles use are rather addictive or used to alter minds too much. Potions, even when they use the same base ingredients, are treated and used differently, so you get vastly different results. There’s a condition that’s called Bi-Polar Disorder. It’s a condition where the brain’s chemicals are out of balance, causing the patient to experience severe changes in mood and behaviour, from extremely high highs and devastatingly low lows. It’s fairly common in Muggles, and the drugs that are used to treat it tend to make patients complain of feeling as if they’re moving around in cotton wool all the time. Now, the same thing here is treated with potions that confront the chemicals and parts of the brain that are malfunctioning to begin to regulate just how much of the chemicals the brain releases at one time. The only problem is that Healers don’t discuss the treatment or what behaviours the patient exhibits. They just assign the potion and then monitor the differences for the set amount of time. There’s no real help outside of that. Hence why so many patients relapse by taking mind-altering drugs, either Wizarding or Muggle, thus destroying their progress and ending up in the special ward at St. Mungo’s for substance abuse.”

“So, you’re determined to use this talk therapy that Muggles tote to avoid patient relapses?”

“Exactly,” Harry answered with a smile. He was rewarded with an equally bright smile from his companion. He tried desperately to ignore the fluttering in his stomach and continue their conversation. It was a topic that fascinated him, and he could tell that the blond was interested in the potions aspect. “Muggle studies show that when the medication is added to talk therapy, group, personalized or both, the patient is more likely to function normally in society. Especially if they have a supportive partner or family.”

“That actually sounds rather ingenious. I never would have thought that Muggles would have something that would improve Wizarding Healing.”

“Yes, well, it’s true that their methods are a little barbaric and involve a lot of risk, but some are actually better than ours. This is a very startling case of that.”

“Did Granger suggest that you do this?” While not trying to be, that question struck Harry deep. It was one that he’d heard numerous times since he began his Healer training.

“No,” he said through his clenched teeth. “I thought this up all on my own.”

“I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Draco said quickly. “It’s just that while we were in school, it appeared that Granger was the brains of your trio, you were the heart, and Weasley was the entertainment.”

He hadn’t thought of things like that, but Harry could see that it would appear like that to outsiders and he began to relax and chuckle a bit. “No, Hermione _is_ the one I consulted once I figured out what I wanted to do and she helped me pick the best university to study at, but she was just as struck by the idea as you seem to be.”

“I’m interested in the potions versus Muggle medication, to be honest.”

“I could see that. You always were obsessed about potions.” Whatever else they were going to say was interrupted by the large yawn that Teddy gave. “Tired, big guy?” Harry asked. The child just nodded and put his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Well, let’s get you back to your nana, and then you can take a nap.”

“’Kay,” Teddy whispered, closing his eyes.

Harry looked around and noticed that they were at the Apparition point closest to the zoo. He turned to his unexpected companion for the day and smiled. “It’s been an interesting day, Malfoy,” he said, holding out his hand for the other man to shake.

He was surprised when instead of a handshake, the blond kissed the knuckles and back of his hand. “Yes, it has, _Harry,_ ” his suitor purred. Again, Harry had to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. “I do so hope that we can do this again. Perhaps without Teddy next time.” Harry nodded dumbly. He could still feel the soft, pink lips as they caressed (there was no other word for what the blond had done) his hand. “I shall contact you soon then.” Before Harry could say anything, those soft lips were sliding against his cheek and then the other man was gone with a distinct ‘pop’.

Shaking his head after blinking a few moments, Harry Apparated to Andromeda’s house, put Teddy down for his nap, and managed to leave the woman’s house without answering a single question about what happened that afternoon. It wasn’t until he was back at Grimmauld Place that he pulled out of his daze, and that was only because that wretched miniature doll of Malfoy was back. “Someone cast an _Augamenti_ , because you’re on fire!”

With a growl and a fierce slash of his wand, the stupid thing was back to being muted and disillusioned. At least for the next four hours. This gave Harry enough time to think about what really occurred with Draco Malfoy that day.

TBC


	6. Send Only Interesting Gifts

**Title:** Wooing the Reluctant  
 **Author:** Makoto Sagara  
 **Series:** Harry Potter  
 **Archive** : the usual suspects (ffnet, affnet, Foreverfandom, my site, mediaminer, makochanupdates on LJ, thehexfiles, hpfandom, and the harrydraco community on LJ); anywhere else, ask first.  
 **Pairing:** Draco/Harry, past Harry+others, past Draco/others  
 **Rating:** NC-17 (eventual; this chapter PG)   
**Warnings** : Slash, ooc, angst, language, humour, EWE  
 **Disclaimers:** I don’t own Harry Potter and his friends. They belong to a list of people, including the wonderful JKR, Warner Bros, Scholastic Publishing, Raincoat Books, and others. I’m only borrowing them for entertainment purposes.

**Author’s Notes:** Thank you to all of my reviewers! Your kind words mean so much to me as I work on this. Special thanks to Twisted Mind, who makes me smile with every review I get. Luvre you, Twist! Extra special thanks go to Jokes for finding the mistakes with Draco’s wand in chapter two and his middle name in chapter four. Oops? And, as always, I am eternally grateful to Jamie, for making this look better than I would by myself and keeping me sane in the process.

**Chapter Six - Only Send Interesting Gifts.  
Boring gifts will convey a lack of passion, and your lack of true desire.**

Draco looked up from the books he was leafing through as his mother entered the library. He gave her a distracted smile, with all the air of going back to his work when she cleared her throat delicately. “Yes, Mother, is there something you require?”

“Well, darling, I would like to enquire as to how your courtship is progressing,” she answered, taking a seat at the table next to him.

“Already planning the bonding ceremony then?” he teased, secretly pleased that she seemed to approve of his choice. Of course, she and Harry had been in contact frequently since the end of the war trials, where he’d spoken so eloquently on their behalf.

“Actually, my love, I’m wondering how well you are doing with this idea of winning over Harry Potter’s hand,” she said, frowning a little. “I am aware that you were not best pleased when he and I began communicating a few years ago.”

“I went with Harry and Teddy to a Muggle zoo two days ago, actually,” Draco said, sitting back in his chair with a brief smile. “I believe that it went rather well.”

“Oh?” He just barely caught the amused smile on his mother’s face and the raised eyebrow that showed her interest in the matter, despite the cool tone of her voice.

“Did he tell you about his plan to incorporate Muggle therapy with conventional Mind Healing to better aid patients suffering from genetic and situational mental disorders? It’s quite fascinating to be honest. He told me a little about the medications that Muggles use, and I have to agree with him that they’re archaic, but helpful. Right now, I’m researching the potions that are widely used in Mind Healing.”

“Yes, Draco, Harry and I have discussed his studies. I’m surprised that you are so interested, however.”

He raised one eyebrow at her. “Why is that?”

“Well, my dear, you’ve never expressed an interest in Healing before. However, the fact that you are so taken with the potions side of it does not surprise me. I blame Severus completely.” They both smiled sadly as they remembered the deceased Potions Master. It was the first time either of them had casually mentioned his godfather in the last three and a half years.

“I will be honest with you, Mother. I really wasn’t interested at all with Healing until I heard Harry speak so passionately about it.” He gave her a rare, bashful smile. “His face lit up, and it was if he was a different person.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Besides, one must always try to understand what one’s future spouse plans to spend their life doing.”

“So, have you decided what you will give him for the second gift?”

“How did you know that I gave him the first?” Draco asked, amused.

“I know that you would not have gone out on a _date_ with your Intended without following proper traditions. You are very like your father that way,” his mother answered primly. “Besides, Andromeda told me about the doll. Rather ingenious, if not annoying.”

“Yes, it was, wasn’t it? He’s not likely to forget it, however.”

“That is true, and it is within the boundaries.” She levelled him with a cool stare. “Now, what are you going to give him for a second gift?”

“I was thinking about the animals that he likes. At the zoo, he seemed rather taken with the aviary, and Blaise did suggest sending him a raptor, as he doesn’t have his snowy owl any more. It’s disgraceful for him to use the Weasel’s annoying flying puffball.”

Narcissa frowned. “Yes, Pigwigdeon is rather a frightful thing, isn’t he?”

“Is that the little beast’s name? It’s too much for it.”

“Harry tells me that they refer to him as Pig as a nickname.” Draco snorted as his mother shook her head. “The raptor is a fine idea, and within the boundaries, again, but I do not think that it is enough. What other birds does he like?”

“He was crazy about that wretched hippogriff during third year. Perhaps I could adopt one at a rookery in his name?”

“Hm, tasteful, within his preferences, but a little impersonal, I think; though, you are on the right track.”

“I could send him a whole sack full of hippogriff feathers, ones that had been gathered, not plucked.”

“And what would Harry do with all of those feathers, Draco? It seems needlessly extravagant.”

“Well, they are actually one of the main ingredients in this Mind Soothing potion, the Equilimente, he’d be using with his patients. However, I suppose that you are correct. He’s always been pants at potions.” He tapped a long finger against his lips as he thought.

“I have an idea along that line, and it would coincide with the previous gift you gave him. And you could still adopt a hippogriff in his name. He would appreciate that as well.”

“I’m all ears, Mother, as the Muggles say.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  ** _EXCLUSIVE: Boy Who Lived Accepts Lord Malfoy’s Proposal, Seen Out in Muggle London_** _  
by Robin Erstwhile_

_We here at the_ Prophet _were the first to announce Lord Draco L. Malfoy’s plans to woo our beloved Boy Who Lived a week ago. According to a reliable source, it appears that Mr. Potter has accepted the offer. They were spotted yesterday at the Royal Zoo in Muggle London with Mr. Potter’s godson, Teddy R. Lupin, who is also Lord Malfoy’s cousin on his mother’s side. The three appeared quite close and were enjoying the day together._

_We can only hope that the courting between the handsome, powerful wizards continues as auspicious as it has begun, and we offer our warmest wishes for their happiness._

_Keep watch with us at the_ Prophet _as we track the tale of these two famous men._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry looked over at his friends from the lip of his tea cup and smothered a sigh. When Hermione had asked if they could come over to Grimmauld Place for tea, he hadn’t thought anything about it. Now, he was having serious second thoughts as they sat in his kitchen. They’d only been there for twenty minutes and already Ron was getting on Harry’s last nerve. It also didn’t help that they’d brought the _Daily Prophet_ with them, where a picture of himself, Malfoy and Teddy beamed on the front page.

“I still don’t get what the Ferret _wants_ , Harry,” Ron said for the third time since he and Hermione came to visit. “I mean, he was a git in school, didn’t even thank you properly for saving his life or giving him back his ruddy wand after speaking for him at his trial. Why now?”

“He said he’s serious about wanting to court me,” Harry answered slowly, wondering if he could smother Ron before his new wife noticed.

“Harry, since you came to me about the doll, I’ve been researching the magic used for it,” Hermione said, shooting her husband a glare. “Malfoy had to have used a _lot_ of magic to create, animate and build up its _vast_ repertoire of annoying sayings and songs.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, I’ve also been spending more time looking up ancient pureblood courting traditions,” she replied, sipping at her tea. It was a sign that she knew he wasn’t going to like what she had to say and was trying to figure out how to phrase it.

“Just spit it out, ‘Mione.”

“Well, according to most of the sources I found, the suitor is obliged to show his power during the first step, which Malfoy has done. Technically, he’s not even supposed to write to you until he sends the first gift. He pushed the boundaries a little by sending a note with that gift.”

“Alright, so he didn’t break the rules, just pushed them. Sounds like what we know of him,” Harry answered with another sigh. “So, what’s his next step?”

“I think the date was it. Supposedly, after he sends the first gift, he’s allowed to see you, so long as there is a third party along for the duration. Teddy counts as a third party, since he’s close to the both of you and neither of you would have done anything… inappropriate with your godson there. Malfoy was attentive, charming, gracious, and showed that he could be a good father figure to Teddy, right?”

Harry watched as Ron started to choke on the four biscuits he’d shoved in his mouth. “’Mione! In case you haven’t noticed, Harry and the Ferret are both guys. What’s it matter that he has to show Harry that he’s a good father?”

“It’s traditional, Ronald,” she snapped. “Something you should understand, since you didn’t even see me for the two weeks before the wedding because ‘it was tradition’.”

“Mum’s the one who was going on about tradition. I didn’t care,” the redhead tried to defend himself.

“Besides, Teddy _is_ Harry’s godson. Think of him as Harry’s de facto child. It fits.”

“Alright, so, gift, note, date…” Harry mused, ignoring the way his two oldest friends were behaving. He didn’t have the energy to referee their stupid arguments anymore. “What’s next? He’s already proven that he’s relatively magically powerful, that he can listen to what I have to say, and that he’s good with Teddy, at least. He’s got more to prove, yeah?”

“Well, yes,” Hermione answered, fiddling with her empty tea cup on the table. “Now he has to prove his knowledge of you. After he’s done that, he has to show that he can provide well for you.”

Harry pondered things over while he heated up a second kettle of tea. “And what about seeing other people?”

“Oh, well, tradition dictates that when a courtship is initiated and accepted that there would be no others.”

“And if either of us were to be caught with someone else?” Not that Harry had anyone that he was interested in, but he was curious.

“I’m not sure, but I think the punishment is conditional to the situation.” He could feel his best friend’s eyes on him as he moved around the kitchen. “You aren’t planning to back out of this, are you, Harry? You _did_ accept by not refusing in the first place. It was cemented by allowing him to accompany you and Teddy to the zoo. The rituals see that as a _date._ ”

“I know,” he snapped, turning around to face his friends. “I know,” he repeated in a much calmer voice. “At first, I just wanted to know what the hell was up. I should have refused yesterday, but…”

“He got under your skin, mate. Simple as that,” Ron said.

“Yeah, I guess he did. I mean, he’s not after my name, my money, or the constant stream of photographers after me, so what is it that he wants?”

“He could want to marry the _Chosen One_ to help his family’s reputation,” Ron added. “I mean, the Malfoy name doesn’t carry as much weight as it once did, what with Lucius rotting away in Azkaban and all.”

“That’s a distinct possibility,” Hermione said. “If there’s one thing Malfoy cares about it’s his reputation.”

“No, that’s not true,” Harry said as he sat back down. “I talked to him about the rumours going ‘round about his many lovers. He admitted to having a lot of them, even though it wasn’t very flattering. I think he might care about the way his mother’s received in public, but Narcissa has rebuilt her own name quite well.”

“Still can’t believe you’re friends with the Ferret’s mother,” Ron muttered. “Just doesn’t feel natural.”

“She’s a lovely woman, Ronald,” Hermione lectured, “which you would know if you bothered to get to know her.”

“And _that_ worries me more than her being friends with Harry,” Ron snarled, glaring at his wife. “How can you even _stand_ to be around her? She’s a blood purist, for Merlin’s sake.”

“Whether or not Narcissa Malfoy is a blood purist is not the problem here,” Hermione snapped, tugging at the ends of her frizzy hair. “She has been nothing but wonderful to me. That’s all that should matter, but it’s not. Your problem is that they’re _Malfoys_ , and your families have been feuding for years.”

“Well, yeah,” Ron muttered. “If Harry wanted to marry a pureblood bloke, Charlie’s free.”

Before either Harry or Hermione could tell Ron how incredibly stupid he was being, an owl tapped against the window behind Harry’s chair. With a dirty look at his first friend, Harry got up to let the bird in. It was a magnificent creature, a raptor in shades of white, brown and deep black. Harry stifled a gasp as the bird dug its talons into his arm before turning cool, appraising gold eyes on him. “Hello there, beautiful,” he said calmly. “And who do you belong to?” The bird shoved a scaly leg up to him, showing a scroll that was tied to it. “Oh, this is for me, eh?” He carefully removed the parchment and unrolled it, letting something drift to the floor as familiar handwriting assaulted him. “Merlin’s balls,” he swore.

“Who’s it from, Harry?” Hermione asked, making a move to pick up the object that had fallen from the scroll. Luckily, Harry stopped her in time.

“Don’t touch it, ‘Mione,” he said, picking it up himself. “It’s a hippogriff feather, set up as a quill, so Malfoy says. He says there’s a protection charm so that no one but I can touch it. Doesn’t say what happens to anyone else who does, but let’s not take chances, yeah?”

“Oh, of course,” she said, patting her hair unconsciously. “So, what does the rest of the letter say?”

Harry sighed and looked at the parchment. There wasn’t anything _too_ embarrassing. It couldn’t hurt to read it out loud. Besides, Hermione knew everything about this stupid situation already. “Here, I’ll read it out to you:

_“Harry,_  
“I’d like to thank you for an enjoyable time earlier this week. You were extremely gracious to allow me to intrude into your time with your godson, but I spend so little time with Teddy that it was a special treat for me as well. Our conversation after lunch gave me much food for thought, and I find that I cannot stop thinking about you. Since you haven’t refused the courting, I am required to send you the next gift. However, I have sent three. It is a little much, but Mother agrees that they are all perfect for you.   
“First is the raptor that delivered this letter. His name is Horus, after the Egyptian god, who had the head of a hawk. He is a Sharp-Shinned Hawk and eats red meat primarily, but I’m sure that the beast would not turn down a hasher of bacon if you choose to feed it to him. I do so hope that you enjoy owning him. He comes from two birds that I have bred myself, Isis and Osiris, and is the first of their offspring.   
“The second gift is the hippogriff feather that you will find included. It has been modified to act as a quill. I have been reassured that it was collected as a fallen feather, rather than plucked. It has been charmed for many things. One I will not tell you. You must find out for yourself. However, there is a protection charm on it that prevents anyone other than you from touching it. I strongly urge you to keep Granger from trying to touch it in her curiosity. I wish her no harm, but it is no mere Stinging Hex that is spelled onto it.   
“Third is the certificate included. As you can see, I have adopted a hippogriff in your name with a rookery located in Wales. The director of the place assures me that you may visit Grimtalon at any time you wish, within reason of course.   
“Mother wishes to invite you to have dinner with us at the Manor in two days’ time. You are welcome to bring Granger and Weasley, if you are uncomfortable coming by yourself. She was hoping to have a dinner for the next step, a family dinner, but as that may not be strictly possible, Granger and Weasley are welcome, or Weasley’s parents, if you so choose.   
“Please respond by tomorrow evening so that Mother knows what to have set out for dinner.   
“Yours,   
“Draco”

Hermione cleared her throat as he finished. “Well, it’s a good thing you stopped me from trying to pick that up,” she said in a high-pitched, nervous voice. “And he seems to be following the rules to a near tee. He’s shown that he’s remembered how soon you bonded with Buckbeak back in third year.”

“No, ‘Mione, it’s more than that,” Harry whispered. “Hippogriff feathers that have fallen, not plucked, are the primary ingredient in the Equilimente potion that I would assign to patients… He’s been studying up what we talked about at the zoo.” The tightness in Harry’s chest, near his heart, that he hadn’t known was there eased. Malfoy, no, Draco, was actually _serious_ about this whole thing. “He – he told me that he was serious, but I – I didn’t believe him.”

“Until now?” Hermione asked breathlessly.

“Yeah, until now,” Harry answered.

TBC  
  
Picture of Horus’s breed http://www.tsuru-bird.net/raptors/hawk_sharp-shinned_juv_1a.jpg


	7. If Needed, Try Something Standard

**Title:** Wooing the Reluctant  
 **Author:** Makoto Sagara  
 **Series:** Harry Potter  
 **Archive** : the usual suspects (ffnet, affnet, Foreverfandom, my site, mediaminer, makochanupdates on LJ, thehexfiles, hpfandom, and the harrydraco community on LJ); anywhere else, ask first.  
 **Pairing:** Draco/Harry, past Harry+others, past Draco/others  
 **Rating:** NC-17 (eventual; this chapter PG)   
**Warnings** : Slash, ooc, angst, language, humour, EWE  
 **Disclaimers:** I don’t own Harry Potter and his friends. They belong to a list of people, including the wonderful JKR, Warner Bros, Scholastic Publishing, Raincoat Books, and others. I’m only borrowing them for entertainment purposes.

 **Author’s Notes:** Sorry about the time between the updates. My computer crashed and had to be reformatted, and of course I was nearly done with the chapter. So, yeah, it took a minute to get back into it. Thanks go to Raintenshi, Jamie, L, and Jokes for being there to help me get back into writing this chapter again, and to Skeren Dreamera, for archiving all the conversations we have over AIM. Without them, I would have given up.

**Chapter Seven - If Needed, Try Something Standard.  
There is a reason it works.**

Draco looked up as Horus flew into the open window of his study and scowled. _It does_ not _take two hours to decide if he is available for dinner in two days’ time_ , he thought crossly as he held out his arm for the regal raptor.  The bird’s talons dug into his robe sleeve as he took the missive from around his scaly leg. He snapped his fingers and a house-elf appeared before him. “Cosmo, take Horus to the aviary and get him something to eat and drink. I will have to send back a reply to his owner.”

“Yes, Master Draco,” the elf responded before disappearing with the hawk.

Once alone, the blond unrolled the dingy scrap of parchment and sighed. Potter’s handwriting was even messier than usual, and he thought that was a feat that was impossible. After squinting a few times, he finally made out the scrawl and let out a growl of irritation. The message he received was extremely brief, considering the length and thought Draco had put into his original missive.

All it said was:

_So sorry, Malfoy, but two days from now is no good. I have dinner at the Burrow to attend. Will discuss with family then and see who wants to come. I’d like to reschedule for next week. If this is acceptable, please let me know and I will write with who can attend later. Apologize to Narcissa for me. Thanks, Harry._

“Who in the hell does he think he is? This is unacceptable,” Draco snarled, getting up with the scrap of paper in his hand. He needed to find his mother and discuss this latest development. If Potter though that the Manor was going to be overrun by Weasleys of all ages, when the letter he sent was very explicit in whom he _could_ bring, then he was sadly mistaken. It was bad enough that Draco had had to extend the invitation to Potter’s annoying sidekicks or the Weasel parents. The thought of the entire red horde in his family house was enough to make his skin crawl. No doubt Grandfather Abraxas’s portrait would attempt to convince the Manor to tumble down around their ginger heads.

He found his mother reading one of those horrid romance novellas that Andromeda had recommended to her out in one of the rose gardens, her favourite place to be this time of day. He stood over the top of her scowling until she looked up from her book, eyeing his defensive stance with a bored expression. “Yes, is there something the matter, darling?”

“ _This_ ,” he hissed, shoving Potter’s response in his mother’s face.

She took the parchment from him lazily and read over it. “Well, Draco, it _is_ disappointing that he won’t be coming to dinner this week, but it is no trouble to accommodate his request. It is nice to see that Harry was kind enough to apologize to me, as well. He’s such a polite young man,” she said breezily.

“Mother, surely you haven’t failed to grasp that he wants to bring them _all_ to the Manor?”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, did you not _think_ about Harry’s adopted family when you began plotting to court him?”

“Of course.”

“Then I fail to see why you are so upset that he wishes to bring as much support with him as possible for a dinner at the Manor.” Cool, blue eyes stared at him over the paper in her hands, and for a moment, Draco felt all of five yet again when he’d let his Kneazle out of the house and it ran away. “As unpleasant as some of the memories _we_ hold of our home, imagine what Harry’s must be like.” She waited for him to say something, but soldiered on when he just looked at her in shock. “Listen, darling, if it’s that bad, why don’t you invite Pansy and Blaise to join us? I could invite Andromeda and Teddy. Think of them as emotional support in your time of need.”

“Why are you being so blasé about having the entire Weasel family here?” he snapped, slumping into the lounge next to his mother’s seat.

“Because, Draco, there are worse things in the world, as you are well aware,” Narcissa answered, taking a long sip of the orange drink in her hand and sighing afterwards.

“Mother, what is in that?” he asked, eyeing the glass suspiciously.

“I hardly know. Andromeda recommended it. I believe it’s called a Fuzzy Navel. I think it is Muggle, but it has peach schnapps and orange juice, I’m sure. I shall have to tell her that I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

“Merlin, you’re drunk? It’s not even half-ten and you’re consuming alcohol? Mother, please tell me that you’re not going to become one of _those_ women. We’d be laughed out of all good society if you have.”

“I hardly think that letting myself indulge one day will turn me into Marissa Parkinson, Draco.”

“Granted, but would you care to tell me why you are taking a page out of Pansy’s mother’s book?”

“I’ve heard from Wycke today.” She thrust a long letter from Lucius’s solicitor into his face. Begrudgingly, he began to read it, his blood running cold as he digested what it meant. “Your father is refusing treatment from the Healers at Azkaban.”

“Does Wycke have any idea of when this will happen?” he asked faintly.

“I haven’t a clue, Draco. You’ve read just as much as I have. I’m sure he’ll write back when it’s over. When it is, we shall have to have the elves ready the family crypt, of course.” He didn’t answer her. What was there to say? So, she resumed reading and drinking as he sat there, stunned. While she seemed to be unaffected by the fact that her husband was dying as they spoke, the fact that she was behaving so out of character spoke volumes about her emotional state to her only child.

Staring out onto the grounds, Draco felt the numbness settle in. He called for a house-elf to bring him a mimosa, not sure if he wanted to try and catch up so that he could feel as callous as Narcissa seemed at this moment. He’d write a reasonably affirmative reply to Harry later.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry grimaced as he stepped out of the Floo, catching himself before he went face first into the couch opposite the fireplace in the Burrow’s living room. He looked up to see a smiling Molly Weasley starting at him. He blushed in embarrassment. After nine years, he’d still not managed to make a graceful Floo trip. Lucky for him, Molly was only too kind to ignore his stumbling.

“Harry, dear, you’re looking well,” she said before moving in to grab him in a tight hug.

“Thanks, Molly,” he replied as he returned the embrace. “Where is everyone?” He looked around, noticing for the first time that he and Molly were alone and the house itself was eerily quiet.

“Oh, they’re out back,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “I wanted to talk to you before I couldn’t get another word in.” Harry smiled at the thought of Molly trying to be demure when it came to her brood. “You know that we’ve all seen the articles, but I want to know how you’re dealing with it now.”

“Reasonably well, I suppose,” he answered. “Malfoy’s not half as bad as I imagined he would be, but I feel like I should be waiting for the other shoe to drop.” He saw her give him a slight smile.

“The two of you looked quiet cosy with Theodore,” she said. “I was surprised to see the Malfoy boy looking so gentle at the child.”

“Turns out that Teddy and Andromeda have been keeping secrets. Malfoy and Teddy have this whole relationship that I knew nothing about, evidently.”

“So, Andromeda made up with Narcissa? I must admit to being surprised by that,” Molly said without a trace of malice.

“Andromeda assures me that without Lucius and their parents standing between them, Narcissa’s very human. I happen to agree, considering all the times that I’ve run into her have been pleasant. Even Hermione’s in her corner, which was a bit of a shock.”

“Mm, yes, Narcissa Malfoy and I will never be bosom buddies, but she’s not so bad, I suppose.” Molly frowned. “And how has all the attention been since?”

“Aside from the bloody articles that we all are used to but still hate,” he shrugged, “no Howlers or crazy stalkers, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’ll have to do,” she said with a strange smile. “I’ll bet that it was Skeeter’s article that did it though.”

“Why? What makes you think she’d actually _help_ me?”

“Well, she made young Malfoy sound a bit intimidating, and anyone who doesn’t know him personally would think he’s a bit formidable. Especially since the proceedings from the Malfoy trials are sealed so tightly.”

“I didn’t think about it like that, to be honest,” Harry said with a huff. “If only I could get rid of this bloody doll, then I might not kill him the next time we meet.”

“The Silencing and Disillusionment charms not working anymore?” He shook his head. “You might want to let George take a look. I know he’s been dying to get his hands on it.”

“I’m sure Angelina is going to thank me for giving her husband something new to play with,” he said half-heartedly.

“Well, if you offer to watch Fred, I’m sure she won’t care.” She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “Now, let’s get you outside. I’m sure that Arthur thinks I’ve probably chatted your ear off by now. Oh, Hermione’s father, John, is here. She convinced him to come over to keep Arthur, Charlie, and George from burning down the backyard.”

Sure enough, as soon as they were out in the backyard, Harry could hear Arthur, John and Charlie speaking in excited tones from around the charcoal grille. Harry hoped that they’d let John set that up. He didn’t want to know what dangers could come from letting an excited Arthur around a gas grille. Suddenly, Harry wished he’d stayed at Grimmauld Place that evening. He didn’t want to ruin the camaraderie he saw going on in the backyard with the news he had to share.

“Harry!” Arthur called, making a retreat impossible. All eyes tuned to him, all fourteen pairs. Suddenly, he felt like an animal in the zoo. “How are you?”

“Fine, Arthur,” Harry answered, feeling the heat in his cheeks as he crossed the yard. “Hi, John.” He turned to Hermione’s father with a strained smile. “Where’s Caroline?”

“Well, she thought that coming to Ottery St. Catchpole was a bit far while on-call for the night, so she said something about dinner with her dad and a book before bed.”

“Couldn’t Hermione just Apparate her back and forth?”

“Evidently, our cell phones don’t work so well out here,” the older man said, scratching at his thinning brown hair. “Besides, we don’t like to rely so heavily on our daughter’s magic to do simple things.”

“I suppose that makes sense. Now, what’s going on over here?”

“Well, John’s been telling us about the way Muggles barbeque,” Arthur answered happily. “He says that you use gas and charcoal to make fires to grill your meats.”

“I still don’t see how it’s possible,” Charlie answered with a huff.

“Don’t worry about it, son,” John said, patting the dragon tamer on the arm. “Caroline and I will have you over to the house before you head back to Romania.” He gave the tall, burly redhead a wry smile. “I’ll even let you help me cook, if you’d like.”

“Harry, come over here,” Ginny called from where she, Oliver, Ron, George and Angelina were sitting, supposedly watching over little Fred, Molly, Victoire, and Louis while the other adults argued over something at the tables. As he approached, he could tell that his best mate, Oliver and George had been drinking that day. Suddenly, he didn’t want to sit with his friends anymore. “Tell my dear brothers that you’re not seriously considering this courting mess with Malfoy.”

“I’m telling you, Ginny, I was there when he wrote the note to the Ferret,” Ron said loudly, making baby Molly shift noisily in his arms.

Angelina huffed, taking Molly from her loud and inebriated brother-in-law. “What’s it matter, Ginny?” she asked once she had Molly settled in her arms. “Malfoy’s not half-way bad, now anyway. Besides, I’ve always thought he’s a nice-looking bloke, if pointy.”

“I can’t believe that I’m in danger of losing my wife to Malfoy, of all people,” George said dramatically, giving Harry an exaggerated frown. “But, seriously, Harry, how are you dealing with everything?”

“Fine, I guess. It’s been…It’s been interesting.”

“That’s putting it a bit mildly,” Hermione said as she joined the group. “Apparently, Harry’s just realised that Malfoy’s perfectly serious about this whole venture. As if the articles weren’t enough to really prove his point or the date with Teddy.”

“Well, mate, I could have told you _that_ ,” George said, clapping his friend on the back. “Malfoys care about public opinion, regardless of what rubbish they tell everyone else, and Draco’s no different. Who else would be better for him to court than the Saviour of the Wizarding world?”

“There’s some of that, I guess,” Harry said reluctantly. He didn’t want to think that his suitor was using him for anything other than what Draco had so passionately declared while they were out on their “date”, but he knew that Slytherins never did something for one reason only. “But there’s more to it, I’m sure.”

“Never said there wasn’t, Harry,” George said, giving him a small smile. “So, when’re you going to let me examine that doll Ron’s been telling me so much about? I’ve been dying to see what kind of tricks Malfoy came up with to create it.”

“After dinner, tonight, if Angelina can spare you.”

“Oh, Harry, you can have him, if you want him,” the dark-skinned woman said with a teasing smile for her other half. “I’m tired of picking up his dirty socks from around the house. He’s a bigger mess-maker than Fred.”

“You wound me, my love,” George cried, placing one hand above his heart.

“Dinner’s ready,” Charlie shouted from the grill, stopping the rest of the conversation before it grew to uncomfortable heights. Morosely, Harry joined the rest of the boisterous clan of redheads as they sat down to the large picnic table. How was he supposed to bring up the whole invitation to Malfoy Manor for dinner if he didn’t even want to hear any of the Weasleys _talk_ about Draco?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“You’ve got to be joking, Draco,” Blaise said, sipping at his sniffer of Draco’s expensive brandy. “There’s absolutely _no_ way that you’re having the entire Weasley family over here for a dinner with you and Narcissa. I refuse to believe it.”

“Blaise, darling, you’re not helping,” Pansy snapped, patting her best friend on the arm. “Draco, are you sure that you can’t back out of this?”

“No, it’s bloody traditional to have the families meet at this point in the courting process,” the blond said woodenly. “When I sent the invitation, I thought that I’d have to deal with the Weasel and Granger, or the Weasel’s parents. I never really thought that he’d want to bring the whole family.”

“Well,” Pansy drug out the word as she thought, “perhaps someone will mention that and you’ll be spared?”

“I don’t think I’m that lucky,” Draco answered. “You two have to be there. Mother’s sent a letter to Aunt Andromeda, inviting her and Teddy that night as well, since they’re like family to both parties.”

“Of course we’ll be there, darling,” Pansy said, earning her a dirty look from her fiancé.

“But my mother is-”

“-Introducing us to her new beau the night before Draco’s dinner, Blaise.”

“Fine, of course we’ll be there, darling,” the dark-haired wizard snarked. “Wouldn’t miss it for all the Galleons in your vault.”

“Nice to know that I have such supportive friends,” Draco said, wishing that it was already the day _after_ the dinner. It couldn’t come too soon in his opinion. “Now, Pansy, I need your help with Harry’s next present.”

“Certainly,” she said, smiling widely at her friend.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco couldn’t help but pace as he waited in the front foyer of the Manor with his mother, aunt, cousin and best friends for Harry and his “family". Tradition stated that during the courting process he had to give his intended space between gifts and dates. So, while Draco had desperately wanted to write to the other man and demand exactly whom he was bringing along, he’d resorted to obsessing over what he could possibly give as a gift. Thanks to Pansy’s help, he’d picked out something tasteful and simple, something that he was sure that Harry would like. He carefully put his hands into the pocket of his dove grey robes as he paced a groove into the marble flooring, the feel of the velvet box soothing his tattered nerves.

“Really, Draco, must you pace like a caged animal?” Narcissa chided gently, hiding a smile behind her hand as Teddy started to follow behind his cousin.

“Yes, Mother, I must,” Draco snapped, rubbing the box anxiously.

“Really, ‘Cissa, leave Draco alone,” Andromeda said sweetly, winking at her grandson. “He has every reason to be nervous. He and Harry don’t have exactly the best history.”

“That’s putting it mildly, Aunt Andromeda,” Pansy said, sounding just as sugary. “Draco did some fairly awful things to Potter, not that he didn’t return in kind, but this is completely different territory for my dear, dear friend. Potter might actually tell him no, and the thought is terrifying.”

“Pansy, if you shut your mouth, no one will think you’re stupid,” Draco snapped, squeezing the box in his hand so tightly he could feel the velvet flake off into his hand.

“Draco, being an arse isn’t going to help your case today,” Blaise said coolly, wrapping an arm around his fiancée as she continued to stare at their friend in disbelief. “In fact, I’m inclined to believe that it will do just the opposite.”

“I know, Blaise,” Draco snarled, whirling around to face his friend, his mother and aunt forgotten. “I just want everything to go perfectly.”

“Master Draco,” Mipsy squeaked, “yous guests is being here.”

“Show them in, Mipsy,” Narcissa said smoothly. The elf disappeared with a _crack_ and she turned to her son. “Draco, manners.”

“I…understood, Mother,” he replied calmly, earning himself a proud smile from his serene mother. He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves and put his mask of disinterested attention on the door.

When Harry walked in, Draco's heart began pounding in his chest and his mouth grew dry. The dark-haired wizard was dressed in formal robes of forest green with gold piping, bringing attention to his famous eyes and the stylish glasses that now graced his face. He had Granger on one arm –looking pretty in her pale blue robes and her hair pulled back into a severe bun– and Ginevra Weasley on the other –in tasteful, but stylish gold robes with her fiery red hair flowing around her. George Weasley also accompanied the three, whispering to his parents, who looked uncomfortable and out of place as they stood in the grand entrance.

“Welcome to Malfoy Manor,” Draco said after Narcissa had nudged him forward. “Harry, allow me to formally introduce my family to you and yours.” He took his mother’s hand and led her to stand before Harry and the Weasleys. “My mother, Narcissa.”

“Lovely to see you again, Narcissa,” Harry murmured, taking her hand and placing a chaste kiss on the back of it. “Thank you for having me over to your beautiful home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter. It is wonderful to see you in good health once again,” she replied happily.

“Cousin Draco, me next,” Teddy chirped, pulling on Draco’s robe with a goofy smile. Draco returned the smile, picking up the young boy.

“Of course, you know Teddy Lupin,” Draco said.

“Hi there, Teddy,” Harry said happily, flashing a warm smile that made Draco have to swallow before he could continue with the introductions.

“My aunt, Andromeda Tonks,” the woman nodded regally and Draco went on, “my best friend, Pansy Parkinson, and her fiancé, Blaise Zabini.” Pansy gave a perfect curtsey while Blaise gave a lazy nod of his head.

“Um,” Harry said nervously. “Allow me to introduce my surrogate parents, Arthur and Molly Weasley, their children, George and Ginny Weasley, and their daughter-in-law and my best friend, Hermione Granger-Weasley.” All of Harry’s party gave curtsies or bows as their names were called.

“Well, we have a little time before dinner is served,” Narcissa said calmly. “We will be eating out on the back patio as it is a lovely evening.”

Draco watched as both Harry and Granger gave relieved sighs. He could have smacked himself when he remembered the last time that either of them had appeared at the Manor. It had been more than less than pleasant. “Would you like a tour of the gardens before dinner is served, Harry?”

“Actually, Draco,” Pansy said with a devious smile. “Blaise and I would like to talk to Potter, if you don’t mind.”

He turned to glare at his friend, but was pulled by Ginny Weasley. “Actually, that sounds like a lovely plan, Parkinson. George, Hermione and I would like to talk to Malfoy as well.”

TBC


	8. Allow Your Intended to Give Something to You

Title: Wooing the Reluctant  
Author: Makoto Sagara  
Series: Harry Potter  
Archive: the usual suspects (ffnet, affnet, Foreverfandom, my site, mediaminer, makochanupdates on LJ, thehexfiles, hpfandom, and the harrydraco community on LJ); anywhere else, ask first.  
Pairing: Draco/Harry, past Harry+others, past Draco/others  
Rating: NC-17 (eventual; this chapter R)  
Warnings: Slash, ooc, angst, language, humour, EWE  
Disclaimers: I don’t own Harry Potter and his friends. They belong to a list of people, including the wonderful JKR, Warner Bros, Scholastic Publishing, Raincoat Books, and others. I’m only borrowing them for entertainment purposes.  
  
Author’s Notes: I had planned on having the last chapter being a bit longer than it was, but found that the perfect stopping point was right before dinner. What does Draco have in his pocket? Well, you’ll just have to read this chapter to find out. Thanks to Jokes for stepping in to beta while I deal with stuff! Love you, girl! *heart*  
  
Dedication: To the lovely and dearly departed Jamie! I miss you already. You made this story so much better, and I promise that I will keep all the ideas you had for it!  
  
 **Chapter Eight - Allow Your Intended to Give Something to You  
Allowing the exchange of gifts conveys seriousness on both sides of the courtship.**  
  
“You can stop manhandling me,” Draco said, pulling his arms from the grasp of the Weasels. He looked around the sitting room they had dragged him into and lifted a curious eyebrow. He never would have thought she’d drag their group into this particular room, but it appeared as if she wasn’t really paying attention to what she did. She really was a sight to be seen when focused on a goal. “Really, Granger, it seems as if your discomfort in my home is short-lived where Harry is concerned.”  
  
“Now see here, you obnoxious, self-entitled, pompous arse,” the annoying know-it-all shouted in her best lecturing tone that Draco remembered from school, “I have a few things to say to you, and you will shut the hell up and listen.”  
  
“Let me guess,” Draco drawled, leaning comfortably against the mantle of the room’s fireplace. “If I hurt Harry, you’ll kill me?”  
  
“No, Malfoy, you’ve got it all wrong,” the surviving Weasley twin said, stepping into Draco’s personal space with an impressive snarl on his normally jovial face. It was an odd look for him. “If you hurt Harry, they’ll never find all of the pieces.”  
  
Had either of the females made that threat, Draco would have shaken it off and headed out to the patio to find Harry and his mother. However, with the Weasley twin, George, he remembered absently, saying those words, Draco was forced to pay attention. “Alright, Weasley, what are your terms?”  
  
“I knew you weren’t stupid, Malfoy,” George Weasley said with a smile that made the blond’s blood run cold. “Now, you _have_ to know that we view Harry as quite our own.”  
  
“That means if you do _anything_ to hurt Harry,” the Weaslette squawked from beside her brother, “and I do mean anything, I will enjoy taking you apart, piece by piece.”  
  
“My, are you sure you fought on the correct side of the war, Ginevra?” Draco taunted the petite redhead. She was his biggest competition when it came to Harry’s affections. Regardless of the fact that she was engaged to Oliver Wood or that she and Harry had been over for nearly twenty months, Ginny Weasley held a special place in Harry Potter’s heart, one which Draco was determined to obliterate and make his own. “That sort of vitriol was spewed by _my_ side, if I recall correctly.”  
  
“I do believe that I said to shut up, Malfoy,” Granger said sharply, drawing all eyes on her. “Harry’s finally realised the seriousness of this entire courting business you’ve started him on. I don’t want you mucking it all up because you’re too much of a prat to see that Harry and Ginny have been over for a long time now.”  
  
Draco blinked, staring deeply into Granger’s bright, brown eyes. “Do you mean to tell me that you actually _want_ me to succeed in winning Harry’s affections, Granger?”  
  
“That’s Granger-Weasley to you, Malfoy, and yes, I do,” the brunette woman answered, putting up a hand as the redheads opened their mouths. “This isn’t about what I want or what I think is best for Harry, because frankly, if I got what I wanted all the time, you’d be in prison and we’d not be having this conversation. Since you seem to think you can make Harry happy, and he’s willing to give you a chance, I will give you a chance.” Draco felt the urge to smile come over him until the woman stepped into his personal space. “One toe out of line and you’ll be a eunuch. Remember that.”  
  
With Granger’s threat out on the table and in the open, Weasley seemed to relax, appearing much like he had when he and his family showed up that evening. “Now, Malfoy, while I have you, I’d like to discuss a little business matter with you.”  
  
Intrigued, Draco raised an eyebrow. He remembered all the lovely inventions that George and Fred Weasley had come up with during their years at Hogwarts, and even though Fred had died at the Final Battle, George Weasley was running Zonko’s and other joke establishments to the ground with Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. If he wanted to talk business, Draco could see the sense in it. Especially since he knew that his mother would send an elf for their party if they hadn’t returned by the time dinner was served.  
  
However, it appeared that the Weaslette couldn’t stand to be ignored and not allowed to get her own say about how the courtship between Draco and Harry should run. “Malfoy, I was serious. Harry’s like another brother to me and I won’t stand for you to mess with his heart and ruin his life.”  
  
“Truly, Ginevra, you have me completely wrong,” Draco said coolly, deciding to wait to speak to George later.  
  
“Really? Why don’t you enlighten me then? Unlike Hermione, I don’t think I want you anywhere near Harry.”  
  
“It must truly maim you to not have any control over Harry now, Ginevra. I mean, you couldn’t even keep The Boy Who Lived interested in you. How that must hurt.”  
  
"Not half as much as my knee in your groin is going to feel, you no-good, poncy ferret!”  
  
 _Really, must all the Weasleys’ insults sound the same?_ Before Draco could respond, Granger had grabbed the younger woman by her arm and began whispering furiously in her ear. _I do believe that I may have to_ thank _Granger-Weasley. Hm…_ He cut his eyes to the side to see George Weasley staring at the two women with a sad look on his face. _Maybe I got a little too close to the truth there. Interesting._  
  
“Listen, Malfoy, it’s best if you don’t goad Ginny about the way she and Harry broke up,” George answered. “You don’t know the details, and it’s in bad taste to assume that you do. It was between them, so we never pried, but it was anything but mutual. Just to let you know, before you step on anymore toes tonight.”  
  
Draco felt as if he’d been struck across the face by the other man’s words. Really, to be reminded of propriety by a Weasley was insulting, even if he was right. Standing up straight, Draco pulled all of his Malfoy calm to centre himself. “You are absolutely right,” he said coolly. “We can speak after dinner about business then.”  
  
“Whenever you’d like, I’m at your mercy.”  
  
 _Pity it’s not Harry saying that_ , Draco thought. “Ladies, I do believe it is time to see if dinner is ready.” _And beyond time to rescue Harry from the paws of my best friends._  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Harry debated as to whether he could snatch his arm away from Parkinson and return to the rest of the dinner party, but a quick look at the woman’s face told him that it wasn’t in his best interest to avoid this conversation. _As if Malfoy’s the one who’s liable to be hurt,_ he thought bitterly.  
  
“Potter, I will come to the point,” the brown-haired, polished witch said once their small group reached a point of the vast gardens where they wouldn’t be overheard. “Draco…he’s very serious about courting you.”  
  
“I’ve realised that,” Harry answered flatly.  
  
“Yes, well, I’m just wondering if you understand what that really means,” she retorted sharply.  
  
“What my dear Pansy means, Potter, is that Draco is vulnerable,” Zabini said smoothly, removing his fiancée’s hands from Harry’s arm. “If you manage to hurt him, you won’t like how it turns out.”  
  
“I think we’re well beyond that point,” Harry snapped.  
  
“I know what you did to him in sixth year, Potter,” Parkinson snapped. “If you ever do something like that to him again, I will hunt you down to the very ends of the Earth to make you pay. Dearly.”  
  
“Are you seriously giving me the whole over-protective speech? On Draco Malfoy’s behalf?” Harry was incredulous. He was being threatened by two Slytherins, one of whom had screeched that he should be given over to his death not even four years before. “I’m not sure whether I shouldn’t start examining you for obvious mental defects or laugh until I piss myself.”  
  
“Save the sarcasm, Potter,” Zabini drawled. “We’re aware that you don’t like us, but it is a simple case of you not really knowing us outside of what we were at school.” Harry waited for the dark-skinned wizard to continue. “As things stand, we are virtual strangers. Like Draco, I would like to assume that we’ve all grown up since Hogwarts and can forgive one another those little slights that have happened in the past.”  
  
“You’re saying that you want to bury the past and pretend as if we’re friends? For what? Malfoy’s sake? I’m not sure that he’s even worth it, to be honest.”  
  
Zabini grabbed Parkinson’s arm as she opened her mouth, effectively shutting the woman up. “Be that as it may, it is up to Draco to prove that to you. I am simply offering you a truce in the face of our common acquaintance.”  
  
“Merlin, what is wrong with you pure-bloods and your inability to speak normally?” Harry groused, trying desperately to fight back the headache that had been building since he’d stepped foot in Malfoy Manor. “Alright, Zabini, here’s what I’ll concede to you and your girlfriend here—”  
  
“Fiancée,” Parkinson sneered.  
  
“What?” Harry asked, not sure where the woman was taking things.  
  
“Pansy is my fiancée, Potter,” Zabini offered. “We’d appreciate it if you’d keep that in mind.”  
  
“Wonderful, congratulations, still not necessary to what I was going to say,” Harry snapped, his patience down to nil. “Now, I understand that Malfoy is serious. I’ll even admit to being flattered. I’ll even follow the stupid, archaic rules that say he has to give me gifts before we can see each other. But, I will not be used as some pawn for Malfoy’s agenda.”  
  
“It’s about time you saw some reason,” Parkinson muttered, turning her back on the two men.  
  
“We’re fairly certain that he will be giving you a gift tonight, more than likely after dinner when you can be alone,” Zabini said clearly, almost eagerly.  
  
“Okay?”  
  
“This gift is supposed to be fairly traditional, but we aren’t allowed to tell you what it will be, as that would ruin the effort Draco’s put into it.”  
  
“I understand that, but why are you telling me all of this?” Harry asked.  
  
“Because the next gift and meeting has to be initiated by _you_ , Potter.”  
  
 _Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,_ Harry mused, blinking owlishly. “It is?”  
  
“Yes, Potter, it’s your turn to give something to Draco to let him know that _you_ are taking this courting seriously,” Parkinson said slowly, as if speaking to someone who was mentally handicapped. “While most of the pressure is on Draco, this is your chance to show him how much you’ve been paying attention to _him_.”  
  
“He, uh, hasn’t spoken a lot about himself,” Harry said, realizing how true that was. “Mostly, he asks questions of me and my life. I know that he raises hawks that he names after Egyptian deities, but other than that, I’m at a loss.”  
  
“Well, it’s lucky for you that I know the perfect gift for my best friend, now isn’t it?” Parkinson asked saccharinely.  
  
 _What am I about to agree to do?_ Harry asked himself before taking a deep breath. “I’m listening.”  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Not five minutes after Draco and the Weasley children arrived out to the back patio, Harry and Draco’s friends joined the rest of the group. Narcissa bestowed all of the younger people a beatific smile that only grew wider as Teddy launched himself at both his cousin and his godfather simultaneously. “Uncle Harry, Nana says that you must sit next to Cousin Draco for dinner,” the little boy said clearly before turning to face his amused grandmother. “Can I sit next to Uncle Harry too, Nana?”  
  
“You must ask your Aunt Narcissa, Teddy,” Andromeda answered softly.  
  
The little boy turned his bright, wide green eyes and white-blond hair combination to his great-aunt beseechingly. “Can I, Aunty Cissa?”  
  
Draco watched as his mother struggled not to burst out laughing in front of everyone. It seemed that he was not the only Malfoy affected by the Metamorphmagus’s blending of Harry and Draco’s prominent features. “Of course, Teddy, you may,” she responded kindly. “I’m sure that your godfather would love to have you next to him.”  
  
It appeared that the Weasleys were shocked to see Narcissa Black-Malfoy speak so gently, especially to a child that she wouldn’t even be allowed to acknowledge, let alone at her dinner table, if Lucius was still in charge of the Manor. When everyone was seated, the house-elves served dinner, and luckily, Granger managed to contain her disgust to two minor comments when she saw how content the elves really were under Draco and Narcissa’s service.  
  
 _I don’t know why she thinks that we would abuse our servants,_ Draco thought tiredly. _They perform much better if they are given respect and treated well. That is one thing that I learned from Mother, and why I ignored Father’s manner of blatant abuse towards that elf, Dobby._  
  
The feel of Harry’s warm hand brushing against Draco’s thigh under the dinner table had the blond’s whole body on fire. He was grateful that he was both sitting down and wearing loose summer robes; otherwise, he would have been embarrassed beyond life itself. A brief look at the other man showed no indication that he knew what he was doing. _A simple touch from the Boy Who Lived and all of a sudden I’m a thirteen- year-old with his first crush? I sincerely hope that I am not blushing. That would be mortifying._  
  
“Draco, my love, is something the matter?” Narcissa asked quietly, managing to attract everyone’s attention to him and alerting him to the fact that he was, indeed, blushing. At least he was _now_.  
  
“No, Mother, I’m fine,” he said through clenched teeth as Harry’s hand once again brushed against his thigh. He could feel his blood spike with desire and wanted to storm up to his room and slam the door. That, or throw Harry Potter to the ground in front of their collective friends and family and shag his brains out. “Just a little warm.”  
  
His traitorous best friends and the Gryffindorks assembled all snickered at his discomfort, and he had to smother the urge to hex them all as Arthur Weasley gave him a sympathetic look. The three older women all turned to a discussion of gardening that seemed all-encompassing, while Mr Weasley turned his attention to the excellent salmon Mipsy had made for diner and little Teddy. And yet, Harry still had no idea what he’d inadvertently caused.  
  
The rest of dinner proceeded in this same vein. The odd mixture of former Slytherins and former Gryffindors stumbled over conversation topics, until Granger brought up the volunteer work that Narcissa had been doing at the hospital, causing all of the women at the table to go off on a tangent about housework, of all things. Well, all of them — except the Weaslette, who continued to glare at Draco from time to time as if he was filth on the bottom of expensive Italian loafers.  
  
When pudding was announced, Draco breathed a sigh of relief before turning to face his Intended. “Harry, I would like to speak to you privately, if I may?”  
  
All eyes turned to them, and Draco could _feel_ the raised eyebrow questioning his intentions from his mother. “Draco?” And really, that was all she needed to say, wasn’t it?  
  
“I would just like to speak to him about the next gift, Mother,” Draco managed smoothly. He heard Pansy and Blaise snickering beside him and he wanted to hex them for being so bloody childish.  
  
“Of course, dear,” Narcissa replied softly. “However, you must take Harry to the side garden, as tradition dictates.”  
  
“Yes, Mother,” he answered, turning his attention back to Harry. “May I?”  
  
“Okay,” Harry said reluctantly, standing up and waiting for Draco to show him the way. However, the blond did him one better and took his arm to guide him. “I’m not an invalid, Draco. I _can_ walk on my own.”  
  
“I know, Harry,” Draco answered softly, indulgently. _Merlin,_ how this man drove him mad, always had. When they reached the side garden that held all of his mother’s prize roses, Draco led his Intended to a pretty stone bench before he knelt down on one knee. “I know that you might think that this is all a little overwhelming, but I want you to know that I’m serious about everything to do with courting you and winning your hand, Harry.”  
  
“You look like an idiot there,” Harry said, a blush forming across his handsome features. Really, he looked so delicious in his formal robes; almost as good as he’d appeared in the Muggle clothing he’d worn on their first date to the zoo. “Please get up.”  
  
Draco sat next to the other man, taking one of Harry’s strong, calloused hands into his own. “Do you at least acknowledge my true aim?”  
  
“I’m still a little wary of your goals, Malfoy.”  
  
“Draco.”  
  
“Yes, Draco, but I can recognize the fact that you’re taking this seriously at least. The feather and the hippogriff adoption proved that.”  
  
“Have you found out what the feather does yet?”  
  
“You mean aside from shocking my friends rather nastily? No.”  
  
“I warned you to tell Granger that–”  
  
“Wasn’t ‘Mione. It was Ron. He came back to Grimmauld Place with me the night I had dinner over at the Burrow and picked it up off of my desk before I could stop him. Lucky for him, I know how to cure an All-Over Boil curse.” Draco watched as the corners of Harry’s luscious lips quirked up into a bemused smile and sighed in relief. “Of course, he deserved what he got, for being such an idiot. It’s part of the reason I refused to let him come over to the Manor with the rest of the family. As much as I knew that you could handle yourself with him being so enraged, I didn’t think Molly could live with the humiliation of him attacking his host for the evening.”  
  
“My respect for your adoptive parents keeps going up,” Draco said ruefully.  
  
“Even if Molly killed your aunt?”  
  
 _Really, of all the things for him to say, he had to bring that up?_ “Harry, my aunt Bellatrix was insane. She was going to kill Ginevra. What Molly Weasley did is laudable. She successfully defended her only daughter from the vile death my aunt would have bestowed. I don’t begrudge her that. In fact, I applaud her for her victory over insanity.”  
  
Harry snorted, but remained silent otherwise and Draco pressed on. “Since you are here, and you have obviously decided to accept my suit, I am required to give you a rather traditional gift at this time.” He felt a little light-headed as he reached his hand into his robe pocket to retrieve the velvet box he’d nearly crushed before Harry’s group had arrived. He saw green eyes widen behind golden-framed spectacles and proceeded carefully. “Harry James Potter,” he started formally, “I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, ask most humbly for you to accept this token of my fervent affection and do beg you to continue your consent to court you.”  
  
He opened the box to reveal a thick platinum band, etched with dragons encircling three emeralds the size of peas. “Will you allow me the pleasure?”  
  
He looked up to see Harry staring at the band fiercely. “There’s some sort of magic in the metal.”  
  
“Protection spells,” Draco mused. “The band is goblin-made, of course, and of platinum. I thought it was white gold at first, but Pansy assures me that I’m an idiot and it’s more costly than that. I saw it in the family vaults and thought of you immediately.”  
  
“The significance isn’t lost on me,” Harry whispered breathlessly. “Do you really mean to give this to me?”  
  
“Of course, Harry. This ring will protect you when I am unable. If someone should throw something more than a mild Stinging Hex at you, the ring will instantly surround you in a rather strong _Protego_. Since you still come across the occasional malcontent in public, I thought that the extra security would be perfect.”  
  
“It’s lovely as well.”  
  
“Oh, yes,” Draco whispered huskily, inhaling the nearness and the woodsy smell of the other man. “It matches your eyes very well.”  
  
“Yes,” Harry said, looking up with an unreadable expression in his eyes. “Yes, I will accept the ring.”  
  
“Excellent,” Draco breathed, crowing in triumph mentally as he slipped the band on Harry’s left ring finger. “It can only be removed should our courting end.”  
  
“What now?” Harry asked, leaning in closer to the blond subconsciously.  
  
“You owe me a private date, Potter,” Draco said before leaning in to capture the other man’s lips in a heated kiss. He could feel Harry stiffen in surprise, but just as suddenly, he relaxed. Draco could feel the hand with _his_ ring come up to cup his jaw, and in an act of possessiveness, he wrapped both arms around Harry’s waist and pulled him flush to his chest.  
  
When Harry whimpered, Draco took the opportunity to nip at his bottom lip, pulling it with his teeth lightly as he moved to sit back down on the bench. Harry responded by opening his mouth, and Draco’s tongue instantly darted forward to taste.  
  
And, oh _Merlin_ , what a flavour the Boy Who Lived had. Draco could taste the dinner’s wine, an excellent pinot his mother was so fond of, mixed with something heavier, sweeter that had to be only _Harry_. He was instantly intoxicated. He could have happily _drowned_ in the embrace of his Intended. There was such _passion_ and struggle for control as tongues wound around each other. It was only when a shocked gasp and nervous giggles sounded from the side of the house that Draco even entertained the thought of relinquishing Harry’s _delectable_ mouth. “Yes?” he asked brusquely and one eyebrow rose in irritation.  
  
His mother, aunt, Granger and Molly Weasley all stood staring at them in various states of amusement. The gasp had to have come from Granger, who was covering her mouth with a hand. Molly Weasley appeared to be fighting the twin emotions of embarrassment and pleasure. His mother’s sharp, blue eyes were _twinkling_ , like bloody Dumbledore’s used to. Andromeda just smirked at him. “We grew a little worried, dears,” she said calmly. “It’s about time for Harry and his family to leave, Draco.”  
  
Stifling a growl at the presumptuous women before him, Draco turned to a _very_ red Harry and smiled. “Remember, Harry, you owe me a private date,” he whispered into his _fiancé’s_ ear before placing a chaste kiss to his jaw. He could _almost_ see why Blaise was so enamoured of the word. Almost. “And the next gift is yours to give.”  
  
Harry stood and nodded woodenly at him before he practically ran from the garden to the rest of their families. Granger and Mrs Weasley dashed off after him. Perfectly content, Draco folded his hands behind his head and smiled winningly at his mother and aunt. He could still taste Harry in his mouth and he relished in it. “Absolutely perfect,” he whispered to himself.  
  
“I take it that he has accepted your formal request?” Narcissa asked as she perched beside him.  
  
“Yes, Mother, he has.”  
  
“I’m happy for you, nephew, but the warning I gave you before still stands,” Andromeda said, her voice somewhere between stern and pleased.  
  
“Trust me, Aunt; that is the _last_ thing on my mind right now.”  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he Flooed back into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. While dinner at Malfoy Manor had gone…better than he could have hoped for, the silence as he and the Weasleys left to go back to the Burrow was nearly palpable. Hermione and George kept giving him sly glances, Molly teared up a few times, Arthur patted him on the shoulder companionably, and Ginny refused to even look at him. To say that it was awkward would have been a vast understatement.  
  
As soon as they arrived, it was like a dam bursting. Hermione and George started asking every question they could in rapid-fire fashion. Ginny just burst into tears, giving Harry a look of what he could only later describe as utter betrayal. Ron came out of the living room and into the kitchen, asking what was going on, loudly. Molly tried to get George and Hermione to back off and to get Ginny to calm down. As Harry’s temper started to flare and he could feel the heat crawling up his neck and face, Arthur took a deep breath and shouted at everyone to shut up.  
  
 _“George, Hermione, I know you’re curious, but Harry doesn’t have to answer for kissing the man who is courting him, if he’s accepted him. Ron, don’t say a word. You’re to be supportive of your best friend or you can stay silent,” Arthur commanded. The three he’d addressed seemed to be properly chastised, and the greying-red-haired man turned to his only daughter. “Harry is not yours, Ginny. You saw to that yourself. Stop accusing him and grow up. Go home to Oliver. Molly, a spot of tea, please? I feel a headache coming on.”  
  
Molly smiled proudly at her husband and began bustling happily around her kitchen as the others sat down at the battered table. Harry, however, could only watch as his “family” seemed to take what Arthur said as gospel. Well, Ginny sat at the table and sobbed quietly into her hands instead of returning to the flat she shared with Oliver in Sussex, but she stopped glaring at Harry.  
  
“Sit down, son,” Arthur said, directing Harry to the chair at his left. Still a little dazed, Harry took the chair and looked at the surrounding people.  
  
“I won’t apologize,” he said stubbornly.  
  
“Harry, dear, it would be unreasonable to ask you to do that,” Molly said as she put cups of tea in front of everyone. “Lord Malfoy is obviously rather fond of you and for that I’m grateful.”  
  
“Yes, Narcissa Malfoy spoke very highly of you while you were off with Ms Parkinson and Mr Zabini,” Arthur said with a smile before taking a long sip of his tea. “Andromeda, of course, could not say enough to praise you.”  
  
Harry felt his cheeks flame for another reason beside anger. “I’ll have to visit ‘Dromeda and Teddy later.”  
  
“I’m sure they’ll appreciate that, dear,” Molly said kindly, dropping a kiss to the top of Harry’s unruly hair. “Now, let’s see the ring.” Awkwardly, Harry raised his left hand from where he’d placed it in his lap and listened to Molly, Hermione, George and Arthur murmur appreciatively at the beautiful band. “He has excellent taste, of course.”  
  
“It really is a beautiful ring, Harry,” Hermione gushed before sneaking a glance at her curiously quiet husband. Harry turned to look at his best mate, to find him with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Ron?”  
  
“Oh, sorry,” the tall redhead said slowly, shaking his head as if to clear it. “It’s really nice, mate. So, you’re really going to go through with it?”  
  
“I am,” Harry said without a moment’s hesitation. He could see the look of surprise in Ron’s blue eyes before his friend nodded reluctantly.  
  
“So, what gift are you going to give him then?” Ron asked, making everyone but Ginny, who fled the room sobbing once more, smile with pride._  
  
Molly had left the room after that, no doubt to discuss things with her daughter, but Harry couldn’t bear to stay much longer. He listened as Hermione went on and on about how promise rings that were normally given during courting rituals could also be taken as engagement rings, since most courtings ended with marriage. After a while, he absolutely craved the peace and quiet of his home. Arthur hadn’t let him leave until he’d secured Harry’s assent to come by later that week for dinner with the rest of the family.  
  
All this brought him back to the present, sitting at the desk in his study, staring at a piece of parchment. The quill/feather that Draco sent him was lying on the desktop, next to a bottle of ink. Harry glared at it as he tried to form the words for the letter he was going to write to help along with Draco’s gift. Gathering his courage, Harry snatched up the quill, but the images that flashed through his mind made him drop it as if burned. What he saw couldn’t have been real, _could_ it?  
  
“What the–”  
  
Staring at the innocent-looking, bronze-coloured feather, Harry shook his head. _I don’t know what the hell that was, but I’m just imaging things, surely._ Carefully, he reached out his hand and just _touched_ the feather. Almost instantly, the images began flashing again.  
  
 _He was lying down in a huge four-poster bed, sky-blue velvet curtains surrounding the obscenely large piece of furniture. The sheets he was spread across were of the smoothest, purest white silk that felt wonderful against his rough palms. Looking up, Harry saw the face of Draco Malfoy staring back at him, his silver-grey eyes nearly black with desire and a lewd grin spreading across his handsome face. “Merlin, Harry, you look good enough to eat,” the blond purred, running one hand up and down Harry’s clothed side.  
  
“D-Draco?” Harry stuttered, his cock twitching at the look of barely restrained lust the other man wore. “What’s going on?”  
  
“I see you’ve discovered the other charm on the quill I sent you,” Draco whispered huskily. “Wonderful that you should choose today to discover it.”  
  
“I only wanted to write a letter,” Harry responded, feeling lightheaded as the blond’s long fingers began to make quick work of the many buttons of his dress shirt. “For your gift.”  
  
“That can wait until later, yeah?”  
  
“What are you doing? What’s going on?” Harry asked, moving his hand s to stop Draco from disrobing him.  
  
“I am, obviously, about to make you feel _ very _good, Harry.”  
  
“How is this _ happening, _Draco?” the dark-haired wizard growled, trying to push the other man off of him so that he could get away.  
  
“The quill was Charmed, of course, not only to curse anyone who touched it other than you, but to allow you to see what I’m thinking about while you hold it.” The blond gave him a smug grin that sent shivers of desire rolling throughout his body. “Of course, it being interactive wasn’t really supposed to happen, but I’ve come to learn that magic acts oddly around you, Harry Potter.” He thrust his hips down sharply, rubbing his very ample erection against Harry’s thigh and dragging an undignified whimper from the prone man.  
  
“Draco, please stop,” Harry pleaded, somewhere between completely turned on and totally confused.  
  
“Tell me you don’t want me, Harry,” Draco purred into Harry’s ear. “Tell me that you’re not excited being trapped by my body, in my bed, hanging on the edge of the most excellent orgasm you’ve had in your life.”  
  
“I do,” Harry whispered, his cheeks flaming.  
  
“Merlin, you’re gorgeous,” the blond whispered, his fingers finding Harry’s pebbled nipples and pulling on them, dragging a needy moan from the blushing wizard. “The many things I could do to you, Harry, would make your mind spin.” Suddenly, the hands were buttoning Harry’s shirt back up. “But, I would rather do it to you in person. I’m sure you understand,” Draco said sadly, forcing Harry to look up into grey eyes that smiled warmly down at him. “You’re worth more than just a quick fuck in my bed, Harry.”  
  
With the gentlest of kisses, Draco pulled away and Harry instantly felt bereft. “What? Why?”  
  
“Because I want you, all of you, Potter, and even this little scene here wouldn’t even come close,” Draco answered with a warm, sweet smile that stole Harry’s breath. “Now, return back to your letter, Potter. And you better make sure that your gift is perfect.”_  
  
Suddenly, Harry found himself sitting at his desk, once more, breathing heavily and rock-hard. Somehow, Malfoy had managed to connect their minds for an encounter unlike anything Harry’d ever had. It had been terrifying, exciting, and intensely erotic. Never before had he even wanted to sleep with anyone he’d dated, aside from Ginny at the beginning of their relationship, but _now_? Now, Harry was almost giddy with desire.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Harry willed his erection down before searching for another quill. He still had a letter to write, for his obnoxiously handsome fiancé’s courting gift. “Dear Kingsley…”


	9. Listen to Your Intended's Needs and Desires

**Title:** Wooing the Reluctant  
 **Author:** Makoto Sagara  
 **Series:** Harry Potter  
 **Archive** : the usual suspects (ffnet, affnet, Foreverfandom, my site, mediaminer, makochanupdates on LJ, thehexfiles, hpfandom, and the harrydraco community on LJ); anywhere else, ask first.  
 **Pairing:** Draco/Harry, past Harry+others, past Draco/others  
 **Rating:** NC-17 (eventual; this chapter PG-13)   
**Warnings** : Slash, ooc, angst, language, humour, EWE  
 **Disclaimers:** I don’t own Harry Potter and his friends. They belong to a list of people, including the wonderful JKR, Warner Bros, Scholastic Publishing, Raincoat Books, and others. I’m only borrowing them for entertainment purposes.

**Author’s Notes:** Over two-thirds of the way through the story now. Yay! Thank you for the many reviews for this story. I adore you all. Jokes, you still rock my socks. Also, I blame any oddness in this chapter on the song “Peacock” by Katy Perry.

**Chapter Nine —Listen Carefully to Your Intended's Needs and Desires.  
Doing so ensures that they will want to listen to yours.**

_From the desk of Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt  
17 July, 2001_

_Lord Malfoy,_  
It has come to the attention of the Ministry that your father, former Lord Lucius Malfoy, is extremely ill, or so is the word from the medical team of Azkaban Penitentiary.  As he is refusing to be moved to St. Mungo’s or allow medical attention from the Healers at Azkaban, they fear that he will not live to the end of the month. You and your mother have my deepest condolences in this tragic time.  
In light of this situation, I am offering you and your mother this one-time offer of transportation to visit with your father. If you are amenable to this, please reply by return owl.  
Thank you for your time,   
Kingsley Shacklebolt  
343rd Minister of Magic

_P.S. Good luck with Harry. You’ll need it._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco shuddered as he led his mother through the cold, dank stone halls of Azkaban. Outside of the dreary prison, the North Sea raged in an impressive display of natural, watery fury. Through the magically protected windows, white foam and salty liquid splashed rapidly against the barred portals. He could feel his mother’s slight frame shiver next to him and he removed his light summer cloak to cover her own. He’d heard the horror stories of how Azkaban could suck the soul and sanity out of even the innocent sent to this rocky hell, but it was nothing to actually experiencing it. He could only be glad that the Dementors were gone and that this would be his one and only visit to the Wizarding prison ever.

The guards that escorted the two Malfoys were silent, and, other than the sound of the pounding waves, Draco could only hear the screams of the incarcerated. Not for the first time in the last few years did he feel immensely grateful for Potter’s testimony at his trial after the war, but this was perhaps the first time he didn’t feel intense self-loathing for his appreciation.

When Minister Shacklebolt’s letter arrived, Draco was _certain_ that it was a joke—a cruel, tasteless joke. He’d said as much in his reply. So, when Minister Shacklebolt himself showed up at Malfoy Manor two hours after he’d written back, he knew that it was true. _“Why?”_ he’d asked, feeling as if he was a five-year-old again and asking his father about the way the world worked.

_“Harry asked me to allow this,_ ” Shacklebolt said, his lone golden-hooped earring catching the sunlight and making a halo around his bald head. _“I understand that he wishes for this to be his gift to you for your courting ritual. He and I are friends, and since he’s never asked for anything from me to play on his name before, I thought that this would be acceptable.”_

_“You mean that Harry Potter asked you to let me see my father and you just agreed?”_ Draco had been dumbfounded to say the least. When the Minister just winked and nodded, Draco felt a little bubble of hysterical laughter gather in his chest before he could quash it. _“When can this be arranged?”_

_“You’ll need an Auror guard to get through Azkaban, I’m afraid, so it might take a few days. How does Friday the twenty-first sound?”_

_“Like I might be dreaming...”_ Draco shook his head and stuck out his hand for the black man to shake. He did, and his grip was surprisingly warm and firm, not the bone-crushing experience that Draco had been dreading. _“Please let me know when we should be ready. I will inform my mother.”_

That had been four days ago. True to his word, Shacklebolt had sent an owl two days later letting him know that a pair of Aurors would be arriving at the Manor on Friday, 21st July, at ten a.m. so that they could escort the Malfoys to Azkaban. Since then, their group had been as silent as the grave.

A loud, pain-filled screech sounded and Draco reflexively reached for his holly wand, only to curse himself as he remembered that it had been collected, along with his mother’s, before they’d been allowed to move into the main part of the prison. “We’re almost there, Lord Malfoy,” the Auror in front of him said, giving him a tiny grimace that Draco wanted to return. However, good breeding made him keep his face blank as he continued to move down the not-so-silent halls. That and the fact that as they grew closer and closer to the lone grey-coloured door at the end of the hall his mother drew her body in more and more until she was nearly non-existent.

As the Aurors proceeded to knock some complicated pattern on the door to whomever was on the other side, Draco leaned until he could whisper into his mother’s ear. “Are you certain that you can go through with this?”

“Of course,” Narcissa replied stiffly, drawing herself to her full height. “I will _not_ allow this opportunity to pass.”

“Mother, Father would not think any less of you if you needed to leave this place,” he said. “Nor would I.”

“I will not waste Harry’s gift to you like that. Lucius _would_ think ill of me if I did something like that,” she whispered harshly before turning to face their escorts. “Besides that, how would I be able to look at myself in the mirror if I failed him now?”

_I understand that,_ Draco thought, placing an arm around his mother’s shoulders as they walked through the door that had just opened. _I feel the same way._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry grinned to himself as he sent off an owl to Draco, letting him know to meet him at _The Dragon’s Hide_ —a secluded and exclusive restaurant he found in the small part of Wizarding Manchester—at half-seven the next evening. The proprietor was the father of a guy that went to Hogwarts with Harry and Draco, Stephen Cornfoot. It had been pure, dumb luck that Harry had stumbled across the restaurant at all. He’d just broken up with Lavender Brown and was avoiding the crowds in London. He’d taken the Floo to an open pub in Manchester that Hermione had told him about, but couldn’t stay there because of all the stares he was getting. He knew that if he stayed long, he’d be swamped by strangers.

So, he’d headed down a shopping district that was little more than a glorified town square and looked avidly at all the different establishments. It seemed that Wizarding Manchester was definitely geared more towards the younger crowds than the family-friendly Diagon Alley. Harry counted at least four clubs, three pubs, two theatres (one even being a Muggle movie theatre), a few bars and many restaurants and interesting places to buy anything from clothing, jewellery, books, and personal items. He stopped to stare at one spot that appeared to be a blank wall.

As he stared at it, the wall shimmered, revealing an old oak door with a sign blazing the name of the restaurant. When Harry walked in, he was surprised to see Stephen manning the maître d’s station. Instead of being fawned over because of his celebrity status, Stephen called his father over to introduce him as “a friend from Hogwarts in his year.” After that, Harry had been going there by himself at least once a month. He hadn’t even taken Ron and Hermione, but he wanted to take Draco there for their first date alone.

He didn’t know what was going to happen, but if the kiss they’d shared when Draco had given him the ring and that damn _daydream_ were any indication, it promised to at least be interesting.

His lips quirked up into another smile as he thought about what occurred with the quill. It had taken two wanks that night to get to sleep after he’d managed a short letter to Kingsley.

Shaking his head, Harry tried his best to put that in the back of his mind. He wouldn’t see Draco until tomorrow night. Never had he been this anxious to meet up with a date before now. He found himself absolutely twitching to kiss the blond again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco looked down at the Apparation coordinates for _The Dragon’s Hide_ and focused on them before heading out with a _pop_. When he’d received Harry’s letter from Horus, he had smirked at the restaurant’s name. Of course, he’d heard about it before, but he hadn’t found the time to actually go and see what it was like. He’d always been too busy with where Pansy or Blaise wanted to go, and it was always to some silly new club in London or holidays on the continent.

The fact that he would be having a private dinner with his Intended was great, but the very idea of being in a restaurant that was so exclusive that one had to know about it before being allowed to enter was intriguing. Of course Harry would have picked a place like that to have their date.

He looked at the blank wall in front of him and had to take a step back as it shimmered to reveal the dark-stained door. _Very nice so far, Harry,_ he thought as he opened the door and entered the restaurant. The décor was done in dark tones, with wall sconces every three feet all around the dining area. Three large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, adding to the lighting, but keeping it from being overly bright. A few paintings that Draco could see on the walls were of dragons of all kinds and there was even the skull of a Hebridean Black above the bar area. Overall, the young Lord’s impression was favourable, until he took in the wait staff and the maître d’.

 The young man at the podium blinked at him as if he knew him, and Draco tried to remember where it might have been that they’d met. _I definitely did not sleep with him, so Hogwarts maybe?_ He took a better look and sighed in irritation. _Brunet, brown eyes…vegetable last name, yes? Ah, Cornfoot, a Ravenclaw, tried to hex me seventh year. Wonderful._

“Malfoy, how nice to see you again,” Cornfoot said snidely. “Let me show you to your table.”

“No need,” Draco drawled. “I see my dinner companion already.” Ignoring the brunet man, he strolled through the half-full dining area to the corner table where Harry sat and smiled as he sat down across from him. “Harry, you look…” _delicious, edible, incredible,_ “well. However did you find this place?”

Harry gave him a shy smile. “Completely by accident, I assure you. I was trying to escape the gaping crowds in London.”

“I’ve not been to one of the spots in here Manchester,” Draco said, looking through the menu on the table. “Perhaps later you can show me around?”

Harry’s cheeks grew pink and Draco had to smother the silly grin that wanted to break out. “I, uh, haven’t really been to any of the other places around here, but there’s a Muggle movie theatre nearby. Have you ever been to one?”

_It sounds so trite, but I would go anywhere with him when he looks like that,_ Draco thought sappily. “No, I have not, but I’m not averse to trying something new. What is a ‘movie’?”

Before Harry could answer, a waiter— _not_ Cornfoot—appeared to take their order. It was then that Draco realised that the food was a bit common, but it all appeared to be edible. He listened as Harry ordered a venison steak with a green salad, and when it was his turn, he ordered lemon sautéed shrimp with wild rice and asparagus as sides. They both ordered wine—a Chateau Briand for Harry and a pinot for Draco—as well. “I’ve never really cared for asparagus,” Harry mentioned offhandedly

“Perhaps I can change your mind,” Draco replied. “It is Mother’s favourite side, and we have it every year for Christmas dinner.”

“Hm, maybe,” Harry said before staring at Draco intensely. “I thought that this time we’d talk a bit about you. Parkinson and Zabini had to help me with your gift, and I’m ashamed to have to admit that, since for all intents and purposes we are engaged to be married.”

“Thank you for the gift, by the way,” Draco said calmly. “Mother and I appreciated the time with my father before…” He trailed off, unable to finish that sentence. “Anyway, what would you like to know?”

“Everything,” Harry responded instantly. “I mean, I know so little about you. I know that you grew up as an only child in a family of Dark Wizards. I know that you were a right prat at school and that you were completely spoilt by the time we met at the age of eleven. I know a little of what happened to you during our failed seventh year. However, my knowledge of you stops after the trials. Everything since then is rumours and innuendo.”

 Draco fought with the opposing feelings of sadness that his Intended really only knew the surface of him and happy that he wanted to get to know him better. “Well, yes, I was completely spoiled by both of my parents growing up. My father never beat me or yelled at me growing up. I had pretty much whatever I wanted, but I was expected to earn the treats as well.”

“How?”

“By getting good grades with my tutors and spending as much time as was necessary to learn my duties as the heir to the Malfoy title, lands, and monies.”

“What do you do to keep yourself busy when you’re not thinking up gifts to send me?” If anyone but Harry had asked that question, they would have sounded self-absorbed, but the dark-haired man sounded genuinely interested, and Draco didn’t forget that this was an important issue for the Saviour, as he wanted a partner with their own interests.

“Aside from taking care of the Malfoy investments and addressing concerns with some of our renters in the nearby Muggle village, I still keep up on Potions research. I have a lab at the Manor that used to make Severus pea-green with envy.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Harry asked with a teasing smile.

“Not all of us can spend our lives being absolute rubbish in Potions and still get a spot in the training programme for Healers, Potter.”

“I was unaware that you were actually interested in becoming a Healer.”

Just as Draco was about to respond, their food arrived and they spent a few minutes sampling the food and making unimportant comments. After deciding that his dinner was more than passable, Draco answered Harry’s last remark. “I’m not interested in Healing, not really, to be honest. I am interested in Potions. That is Severus’s legacy, and I only hope that I can make my godfather proud of me from the beyond. Although, since our conversation at the zoo, I have taken an interest in the differences between Muggle medications that are issued by physicians and the Potions that are prescribed by Healers, and not just in your specialty.”

“Are you thinking of going for a Potions Mastery?” Harry asked, his green eyes twinkling mischievously.

“I have thought about it, truthfully, but I don’t really know anyone that would be worth my time to work with. I have no desire to work with St. Mungo’s or the Ministry, and private brewing would only get me undesirable clients.” He took a sip of his wine to clear his palate before he continued. “In fact, because of my last name, I’m sure that the only places that anyone would purchase my potions would be on Knockturn Alley.”

“How long would it take for you to complete your Mastery?”

Draco looked at Harry thoughtfully. _Why are you asking this? Are you trying to gauge how interested I am in doing a stint for my Mastery so that I could brew for you?_ “Two years, as I had already started the apprenticeship with Severus over the summer before fifth year, with a break during sixth year, of course. In fact, with the way that school was our seventh year, that was all that I did.”

“How long is an apprenticeship?”

“Four years, if I recall correctly, but it really depends on the Master you work with. If Severus had lived, I would already have my Mastery.”

“I tried to save him, you know, but it was too late,” Harry whispered awkwardly. “There was nothing that anyone could have done by then. Nagini’s poison didn’t have an antidote, and I didn’t think the bezoar trick would work again.”

Draco snatched up Harry’s hand and placed a kiss to the smooth-skinned back. “I know that, Harry. You’re far too noble to let even Severus die the way he did. It’s not your fault, you know?”

“I know that. I just wish that I had been, I dunno, nicer to him when he was alive. He did so much to help me during the hunt and at the end; I doubt I could ever repay him. Getting his name cleared and a decent burial was the least I could do for Snape.”

“It was more than he would have received should the Dark Lord have won,” Draco whispered uncomfortably. _This is the first time that we’ve discussed any such topics. I suppose that now is as good of time as any, but this is a_ very _heavy topic to be discussing when all I really want to do is snog him senseless._ “We don’t have to talk about this, if you don’t want.”

“No, I reckon we’d better do it now so that it won’t come back in bite us in the arse later.”

Draco nodded, seeing the logic in his Intended’s statement. They _did_ have a lot of history that needed to be settled before their relationship could be taken to the next step, regardless of the _other_ things that made them so compatible. He squeezed Harry’s hand that he still held gently. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”

“When did you decide to help out with the War Orphan Fund?”

_Here’s the important part._ Draco bit back a sigh. It wasn’t going to be easy to as honest as he knew that Harry wanted him to be. It wasn’t even second nature for Draco to want to keep the information secret to put him in a good light with the other man, but he _knew_ that if he withheld any information at this point, he would ruin any chance that he’d built up during the courting process. “Honestly, my mother was the one who got involved with the Fund back at its inception.” Draco gave Harry a smile when the green-eyed man continued to stare at him so earnestly. “I _did_ help her with a few benefits and even signed a few cheques for the organization, but I wasn’t very taken with it. It wasn’t until I decided that I wanted to pursue you that I really thought about your Fund. It was a picture of Theodore and me that actually gave me the idea.”

“So, all that crap the _Prophet_ printed was just that?” Draco watched as Harry’s jaw clenched and the muscles of his cheeks twitched in anger.

“No, I did mean that, and I’ve been working with the other members of the board to actually put into plan what I suggested.” Draco sighed as Harry’s eyes turned hard and his entire body tensed. “I _do_ feel that if proper rules and laws were set in place then situations such as yours and Tom Riddle’s could have been avoided. They _should_ have been avoided. James Potter was a pureblood, with ties to _many_ other families. Surely there could have been a better family to take care of you than your mother’s sister, who I understand hated magic and those could use it out of pure jealousy.”

“I’m guessing Snape told you that?” Even though Harry’s voice was still tight, the lines around his eyes had smoothed out. Draco took a deep breath in relief, knowing that he was getting somewhere that would lead him _out_ of trouble with his Intended.

“We _had_ discussed it that last year while I was working with him,” Draco admitted. “In fact, I think it was in that time that I realised that my godfather was a spy for Dumbledore before that scene on the tower. It makes what he did for me all the more poignant.”

“He did it because Dumbledore was dying already and they both wanted to save _you_ from becoming a murder. You were a prat and a bully before then, but you weren’t evil, no matter what Ron and Ginny thought. Hermione and I were aware that you were just doing what you could to save your family. It really angered me that Ron didn’t understand that when I told him and Hermione what happened on the Astronomy Tower considering how close he and his family are.”

Draco shrugged and let his opinion of Weasley go unsaid. “I’m sure that you understand that Weasley and I will never be the best of friends, Harry, so whatever you say about him to me isn’t going to endear us to each other.”

“I don’t want you to be the best of friends,” Harry grumbled. “I would just like it if you could be civil towards one another.”

“If I can be civil to your ex-fiancée, then I’m sure her brother should be relatively easy.”

Harry startled him by laughing. “You say that now, but Ron can be really stubborn.” A thoughtful expression crossed the other man’s face, but before Draco could ask him about it, he continued speaking. “Although, he was really supportive when we got back to the Burrow after the dinner at the Manor, which was a little surprising. I expected him to blow up, but then again, Arthur did tell him to shut up if he didn’t have anything helpful to say.”

“I never saw Arthur Weasley as being forceful. I’m not trying to offend anyone, but every time I have seen him, he seems a little cowed by his wife. Except for that one time he went against my father before second year.” Draco sighed quietly as he tried to think of how to ask his next question. “Ginevra seemed particularly hostile to me that day. She even went so far as to tell me that I wasn’t good enough for someone like you.”

Harry put down the wineglass he’d just picked up and grimaced. “Yeah, well, Ginny’s been against this since she found out. In fact, she seems to blame me for even accepting the courting as some sort of personal affront.”

“Do you mind me asking why the two of you are no longer together? I always got the feeling that you were going to marry her as soon as the war was over and things had settled down.” _Yes,_ Draco thought to himself, _that was gentle enough not to offend and to the point of what I really want to know. What in the hell did the Weaslette_ do _to make you leave her, Harry?_

Harry bit at his lip, drawing Draco’s sharp eyes to the full piece of flesh. He remembered how Harry had tasted the last time they’d kissed and the noises he’d made in Draco’s arms. Just as Draco was going to lean over the table to attempt another kiss, Harry’s voice brought him back to their current surroundings and the topic they’d been discussing. “I always thought that too, but…Ginny claimed that she wanted to work on her career first. I didn’t begrudge her that, so I agreed.” Harry licked his lips nervously. “We _did_ get engaged, and she was picked up fairly quickly by the Harpies while I entered the programme at St. Mungo’s and Hermione helped me get into a Muggle university for the psychology classes I wanted to take.”

Draco didn’t press his Intended as he paused in his explanation. He’d learned that pressing Harry only got the opposite reaction he wanted, and at this point, setting Harry off would be worse than detrimental. Instead, he gently squeezed Harry’s hand that he still held and tried to give him an encouraging smile.

“She, uh, bloody hell, this sucks. I’ve never had to explain this before. Things were fine for a while. Probably the first six months of our engagement, but then I had to break dates with her so that I could attend seminars for both of my studies. She didn’t understand it and soon she started going out with her teammates.” Harry grimaced again and knocked back the rest of the wine in his glass before continuing. “She started sleeping around with her female teammates. It was discreet, of course, so I wouldn’t find out, but as I went to start the classes after winter break of my second year through St. Mungo’s, she confessed. She was as drunk as a skunk and blubbering the entire time when she did it.

“I didn’t yell at her. In fact, I didn’t say anything at all. I just asked her to leave my house and said that we’d talk later.”

“Is that when you broke your engagement?” Draco asked, silently applauding the Weaslette for her stupidity that left Harry free for him.

Harry shook his head, taking a few deep breaths and signalling the waiter for more wine. “Merlin, I wish this was Firewhisky,” he muttered. “No, I waited about a week before I invited her back to Grimmauld Place to talk things over. When I asked her why, she just said that she hadn’t wanted to wait until marriage to have sex and that she felt that I found my schooling more important than her.

“It turned into a huge row, where she accused me of all sorts of things. I just let her yell herself out, but I guess she wanted some sort of reaction that she wasn’t getting from me. That’s when she smacked me across the face.” Harry took his hand back from Draco and ran it down his face, as if to clear his thoughts. “It was then that I told her it was over and that she could keep the ring. It took me four months before I could even talk to her again.”

“And neither of you told anyone why you broke up? I remember reading that the two of you had grown apart, according to the papers.”

“No, I told Ron and Hermione, and I think Arthur may suspect, but everyone else has no clue unless Ginny told them.”

Draco sat back and pondered over what he’d just learned. _If Harry did leave the Weaslette for her infidelity, I could see why she was so hostile to me, considering my history. What does she hope to gain by causing such a scene at the Manor and with her family? Does she want Harry to return to her? Or does she simply think that I would do the same thing that she did? It’s a preposterous assumption on her part._ “Thank you for telling me, Harry.”

There was no verbal response from his fiancé, just a wooden nod of his head as he stared at the empty plate before him as if it were responsible for the change in the mood of their date.   _I have to think of something to change the atmosphere here. Before, even when we were talking about the war, it wasn’t this bad._ “So, have you ever brought Weasley and Granger here?”

“No, I haven’t brought anyone here,” Harry said quickly, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. Draco gave him a smug smile in return.

“Well, we could have afters, if you’re interested, or we could go exploring around this part of Manchester? It’s only nine. The night is still young.”

“I think I’d like that,” Harry responded, as Draco signalled for the cheque.

_Excellent._

TBC


	10. Keep Rival Suitors Away

**Title:** Wooing the Reluctant  
 **Author:** Makoto Sagara  
 **Series:** Harry Potter  
 **Archive** : the usual suspects (ffnet, affnet, Foreverfandom, my site, mediaminer, makochanupdates on LJ, thehexfiles, hpfandom, and the harrydraco community on LJ); anywhere else, ask first.  
 **Pairing:** Draco/Harry, past Harry+others, past Draco/others  
 **Rating:** NC-17 (eventual; this chapter R—Draco’s a little suggestive here)   
**Warnings** : Slash, ooc, angst, language, humour, EWE  
 **Disclaimers:** I don’t own Harry Potter and his friends. They belong to a list of people, including the wonderful JKR, Warner Bros, Scholastic Publishing, Raincoat Books, and others. I’m only borrowing them for entertainment purposes.

**Author’s Notes:** Only two more chapters after this. Thank you so much for the reviews so far and for sticking with me! As always, Jokes is the best and Forever’s my best girl in a crisis. Shall we share some Pumpkin Pasties for the upcoming holidays?

**Chapter Ten - Keep Rival Suitors Away  
Rivals sometimes need to be taken out so that they cannot steal your Intended's attentions.**

“So, Harry, how did your date with Malfoy go?” Hermione asked as she and Ron sat down at their friend’s kitchen table two days after his _extremely_ successful date with the blond.

“NO details,” Ron stressed as Harry sat across from them while directing a teapot, cups, and fresh croissants onto the table. “I love you like a brother, Harry, but that is just something I do _not_ want to hear about.”

Harry flushed, partially embarrassed and partially annoyed at his best friend. Yes, Ron appeared to have accepted the fact that Harry was pretty much engaged to Draco Malfoy; however, he was still too squeamish to talk about it. “Yes, well, I had no intention of sharing any of those with you, Ron, so you can relax,” he said snappishly.

“Sorry, mate,” Ron whispered sheepishly. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t be spreading things like that around.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “I just _really_ don’t want to know if you and that git are snogging.”

“You can breathe easier, Ron,” Hermione said with an indulgent smile for her husband. “So, what happened? You never did tell me what you got him as your gift. Where did you go for dinner? What did you do afterwards?”

“Whoa, slow down, ‘Mione,” Harry said with a chuckle. His best friend really hadn’t changed much since their time in Hogwarts; at least, not where it mattered. Her appetite for information of any kind was still utterly voracious. “We had dinner and talked for a long time. I arranged for him and Narcissa to visit Lucius at Azkaban before he passed. Parkinson and Zabini let me know that he’d received a letter about his father’s failing health the same day I sent him the reply about the dinner at the Manor. Kingsley helped me set things up for Draco. And we went to a place in Manchester for dinner and then saw a movie at one of the Muggle movie theatres there.”

“Draco _Malfoy_ went to a _Muggle_ film?” Hermione asked sceptically. “You don’t really expect me to accept that, do you?”

“Well, we did. We went to see Moulin Rouge with that Australian bird, Nicole Kidman, as the lead,” Harry answered.

“Hm, alright, well, I can see the appeal in going to see it with Malfoy on your date, but you _were_ supposed to go with Ginny and I on Thursday evening for our date night, remember?” Hermione teased.  Now what are we going to do?”

“I, uh, forgot, but I liked it enough to go again,” Harry said, blushing from head to toe. “Although, I could do without Draco’s snarky comments about Ewan McGregor’s singing. It was as bad as going to a film with Ron.”

Hermione giggled while Ron scowled at his best friend. “I am _not_ that bad, thank you,” he said petulantly. “Besides, I actually _like_ Muggle films.”

“You like Muggle musicals, Ron, with romance and tragedy?” Hermione looked at her husband smugly as he blanched. “I didn’t think so.” She then turned back to Harry with a hungry expression on her face. “So, you had a good time with him alone. That sounds promising. Aren’t you supposed to invite him and Narcissa over for dinner sometime soon? When are you going to take care of that?”

“Yeah, I was thinking that this Saturday would be okay and that we’d have the entire family over here with Draco, Narcissa, Andromeda, Teddy, Parkinson and Zabini,” Harry said, feeling tired at the thought of such a large gathering.

“Well, mate, that’s rather… _ambitious_ , but if you’re determined to have it out, ‘Mione and I will be here to help you out,” Ron said, patting his friend on the arm carefully. “I dunno what _I_ can do, but I’ll try anyway.”

“Thanks, Ron. I really appreciate you offering to help,” Harry said with a tiny smile. “Besides, after Molly gets here, I doubt there will be anything for any of us to do, unless she begins dictating again.” Any farther conversation was cut off by an owl tapping at the kitchen window. Harry stood and walked over to open the glass barrier and was nearly buzzed by the package that was strapped to the bird’s leg as it passed him on the way to the table to steal the croissant right off of Harry’s plate.

Ron and Hermione refrained from approaching the large eagle owl, but watched it as it gobbled down one of the fluffy pastries and started on a second. “Isn’t that Malfoy’s owl?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, I remember it from school,” Harry said, managing to remove the package while the owl devoured its purloined treat. “Draco always made sure that we knew that his parents had sent him something from home when it visited.”

“Yes, well, his cronies were only too happy to help him be the world’s biggest prat,” Ron muttered while stuffing his face with the last croissant. “What did he send you this time? I hope it’s something other than these prissy pastries my sister got you addicted to while you were dating.”

Harry unwrapped the thick, cream paper from around the box. He carefully lifted off the lid to find a plate, laden down with what appeared to be French éclairs. There was a note attached to the bottom side of the lid that Harry removed before banishing the cardboard. He set the plate down on the table and cast a Stinging Hex on it so that Ron didn’t eat the whole thing before he could finish reading the attached missive.

_Dearest Harry,_  
            I hope that this package finds you well after our charming evening in Manchester. I look forward to spending more time with you. This is, as you’ve already guessed, your next gift and letter. However, this is the first in a series of gifts and notes. You will receive one for every day that I must spend thinking about you, alone.   
            As you can see, I have sent you éclairs. Just as you love treacle tart, I prefer these as dessert, and sometimes breakfast. They have come from my favourite patisserie in Paris, one that my mother has been a fan of for as long as I can remember. Perhaps one day you will allow me to take you there to choose a new favourite dessert.  
            Nevertheless, I would love to slather your delicious chest in the rich, thick cream as we made love so that I could lick it off. Would you enjoy that? I humour myself thinking you would.  
            Sorry, I did say that I wanted our relationship to be based on more than just sex, but I find it difficult to think of anything else when everything reminds me of you.  
            Please say that you are making plans for our next meeting to be soon. Until then, I feel as if I might expire of frustration.

_With all my affection,  
DLM_

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco lounged on the back patio as he watched the sun rise over the garden’s hedges. His mood since his _un_ surprisingly enjoyable date with Harry had been nearly giddy. And he’d deny it if anyone ever attempted to accuse him of acting anything but the consummate Malfoy, for the way he wanted to burst out laughing for no real reason was rather undignified.

His mother had wisely refrained from saying anything, but he caught her smiling at him for no apparent reason. It made him indescribably grateful to Harry to see his mother so happy when she might have been miserable while awaiting news from Wycke about his father. She’d even gone so far as to give her unsolicited opinion of what she thought Harry would like when she found out that his next set of gifts consisted of delicacies that Draco wanted to share with the other man.

He’d started with éclairs—his mother’s suggestion, and he agreed with her, for who could deny that the French made the most delicious pastries? Especially when fantasising about licking the delicate and rich cream off of Harry’s chest for hours before he made wild, passionate love to him.

And he refused to talk to Pansy or Blaise about _that_ thought. He didn’t _really_ need for his best friends to know that he was totally, arse-over-tits, completely barking, and madly in love with Harry Potter, of all people. He had a reputation to think of, after all.

The next gift had been a little pâté made from Augury chicks’ livers and thin rice crackers he’d found while he was in China right after the war and the trials had ended.  Along with the food, he’d included a note explaining that he planned on feeding Harry the treat when he finally had him at his tender mercies, _before_ the entire meal he had planned that could be eaten while in bed.

Then, he’d sent a lovely pasta dish that consisted of light, angel hair noodles, a creamy Alfredo sauce and tiny sautéed shrimp, summer peppers and onions. He’d explained that this dish was something he’d found while in southern Italy with his parents as a child.

The next had been a bottle of his favourite Pinot Noir wine, straight from the vineyards of the Malfoy estate in Provence. It was perfectly aged to be savoured slowly with a red meat dish of Harry’s choice at any time, but Draco had to add in his note that he would prefer it to be shared only with him. Harry’s response had been a source of amusement for Draco the day before. The letter stated that as the wine was a _gift_ to Harry, he could do with it as he saw fit, even if that meant throwing it out the window. However, since it was Draco’s favourite, Harry _might_ consider sharing it, if he asked nicely.

He still had time before Pansy and Blaise came over to join the family part at Harry’s home for an informal lunch. The entire Weasley clan would be there, of course, and—according to Harry—the Weaslette would be bringing her fiancé. Uncharacteristically, Draco found himself feeling sorry for Oliver Wood. The poor sod was relatively handsome, rich, famous, and rather smart. For all intents and purposes, he was completely in love with Ginevra Weasley—the youngest Chaser the Harpies had taken on in a few decades.

_Too bad the twat isn’t as taken with Wood as he is with her,_ Draco thought sourly. _She’s an idiot. I never thought that she and Harry was a good match. That relationship was a bit too oedipal, if you ask me. And then she cheats on him with one of her teammates._ A lecherous smile crossed Draco’s face. _I don’t know if I find that repulsive because of the Weaslette being involved or interesting because of whom she chose to betray Harry with._

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. _That’s regardless of the actual situation. The point is that she_ did _cheat on Harry, she’s still not over him, and she’s engaged to another man. However, her folly is my gain. Now, if she can manage to be civil during the next meal, I can avoid a huge scene in front of her family and new fiancé—not to mention the embarrassment it might cause my mother if I should make Ginevra’s misdeeds public and she attempts to air mine._

“Draco, are you ready to go, love?” Narcissa called as she stepped out of the Manor and onto the patio where he sat.

“Mother, it is only…” he took out his wand and cast a _Tempus,_ “eight o’clock in the morning. We’re not needed at Harry’s house until eleven-thirty.”

“I know that, Draco, but we have to go pick out a gift for Harry and one for Mrs Weasley,” his mother said, her tone indicating her annoyance at him.

“I already have Harry’s gift ready,” he explained. “I’m taking him a box of caramels and some Bottie Bert’s Every Flavour Beans.”

“Why are you giving your Intended something so…plebeian, Draco?” He wanted to laugh at the disgusted curl of his mother’s lips as she tried to digest the news of his gift. Her appalled face was somewhere between expressions he’d seen both of his aunts wear and his father’s infamous sneer—the one that he’d inherited, in fact. “They are hardly delicacies, and they seem rather at odds with what you’ve sent him up until now.”

“Yes, I’m aware, but I ran into Neville Longbottom this week, and he suggested that I get those for Harry. It seems that the Boy Who Lived loved to eat common candies up in Gryffindor Tower with his hangers-on.”

“Longbottom told you that, you say?”

Draco had to look at his mother twice when she said that. It was something that his father would have said, while tapping one long finger against his chin in thought. Suddenly, Draco felt an intense longing to visit his father’s study and sit down in one of the chairs before the large fireplace while he waited for Lucius to join him. He shook his head to rid himself of the sudden attack of melancholia. “Yes, and since Longbottom happens to be on good terms with Harry still, I thought it wise to listen to his opinion.”

Narcissa nodded before giving her son a bright smile. “That still does not negate the fact that we need to get something for Molly Weasley. I’m sure that Andromeda and Theodore would love to join us in finding something that shall fit the other woman perfectly.”

“Of course, Mother,” he responded with a wry smile. “Whatever you say, I shall do.”

“There’s a good son,” she retorted, patting his cheek as if he was Teddy’s age again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Hey, Malfoy,” Ronald Weasley called as the blond helped Harry clear off the luncheon dishes from the large dining room table while Mrs Weasley, Narcissa and Andromeda cleaned the kitchen. “Can I have a word?”

Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry, who just blushed and shook his head before turning back to his chore. _That’s a lot of help, Harry,_ he thought sourly before turning to his former school nemesis. “I don’t know, Weasley, can you?”

Weasley heaved a huge sigh and closed his watery blue eyes as if he was attempting to rein in his infamous temper. “Okay, so I walked into that one,” he said after a few seconds of deathly silence. “I’d like to talk to you alone for a minute, if you’d be so kind.”

Draco raised an eyebrow in question. _Surely he knows that I’ve already gotten the over-protective conversation from his brother, wife and sister. Whatever else Weasley is, he’s not stupid. So, what_ is _it that he wants to talk to me about?_ Quickly he realised that he wasn’t going to get his question answered just standing there staring at the other man, so he nodded. “Of course, Weasley.”

Before he could blink, the tall redhead had a hold of his arm and was dragging him through a study, passed many of the members of the Weasley family and a shocked Pansy and Blaise. Ron slammed the door shut behind them and turned to stare at Draco carefully.

“Was that truly necessary, Weasley?” Draco asked, rubbing his arm where the oaf had held him too tightly.

“Sorry about that, but I figured if they all thought we were about to have a row, they’d stay back,” Ron said, face turning an unflattering, ruddy shade. “One of the benefits of having a gigantic temper, I guess.”

“I can see the sense in that,” Draco said. “What can I do for you?”

“’Mione and I wanted to take you and Harry out for dinner tonight. You can invite Parkinson and Zabini as well if it’ll make you feel more comfortable.”

“Well, it would even out the whole Gryffindor-to-Slytherin ratio, but I don’t think that’s really necessary. I seriously doubt that you would attack me in front of witnesses. I don’t think that Gryffindors are really allowed to do that.”

“I think you might want to ask them anyway, because once my sister finds out, she’s going to demand that she and Oliver come along, since neither have a match for the next week.”

“I’m rather shocked that you’re being so sensible, Weasley.”

“Look, around here, that’s going to get more than one person staring at you. Just call me Ron.”

“Don’t expect me to extend you the same courtesy, Ronald,” Draco said with a wry smirk.

“Git.”

_If I had to say how he sounded just now, I’d say that he sounds almost_ fond _of me._ Draco shuddered. _Perish the thought that a Weasley is fond of a Malfoy._ “Fine; what time did you want to gather? Pansy will need to know if she’s to work on Blaise.”

The redhead sighed dramatically. “Why can’t you just speak normally? You sound like a pompous arse. We’ll be ‘gathering’ around six at the Leaky, unless that’s not to your Majesty’s high standards.”

Draco shook his head in disgust. “Surely you don’t expect me and my friends to actually eat in the Leaky Cauldron? That’s beyond plebeian.”

“Dear Merlin, save me from this arrogant snob,” Weasley muttered before staring at Draco full-on. “No, you moron, we’re _meeting_ at the Leaky. ‘Mione wants to take you all to some smarmy French place in Muggle London she found with her parents. She wants to make sure that everyone is wearing the correct clothing before dragging a bunch of purebloods out into the Muggle world. She doesn’t want to ruffle any feathers.”

_Well, it’s nice to know that Granger has_ some _taste, even if her taste in men leaves something to be desired._ Instead of saying something nasty about Granger, her Muggle parents or even Weasley himself, Draco just nodded. “I’ll let Pans and Blaise know then.” Without another word, he went through Harry’s dark house to find his best friends to let them know they were having dinner with Gryffindors.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry was more than just a little surprised when Hermione and Ron suggested taking the Slytherins out for a group date. However, Ginny volunteering her and Oliver as a fourth couple seemed to surprise no one else. Harry had almost wondered if George was going to try and sneak in with Angelina as well, but he could see the dark-skinned woman dragging her husband and son towards the Floo, muttering under her breath about not being able to have any more fun since she’d “settled down.”

The four couples all agreed to meet at the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon so that Hermione could double-check their Muggle attire before they went to the restaurant she’d picked out. When he and Draco were alone, _finally,_ the blond turned to him, worrying his bottom lip with his sharp, perfect teeth. _I wonder if he knows that he got that habit from me. And is it really possible for him to pick up something like that after such a short time together?_ “Why don’t you spit out what’s bothering you, Draco?”

“Well, Weasley, Ronald, mentioned that Granger, Hermione, was taking us to a French restaurant in Muggle London,” the blond said, only _slightly_ hesitating on Harry’s friend’s personal names. “I understand that the attire is more than likely Muggle formal, yes?” Harry nodded, surprised at how diplomatic Draco was attempting to be. “I’m concerned that she might not be able to… afford the bill.”

The dark-haired man couldn’t decide if he should be upset that Draco was implying his friends were poor or proud that the blond was trying to be as sensitive about the situation as possible. He settled for a mixture for both. “I know that you don’t know anything about Ron and Hermione’s finances, Draco, but I’m sure that one meal isn’t going to bankrupt them. Besides, they’ll only be paying for their meal and ours, since they’re just treating _us_. Hermione said it was like an engagement gift or something like that.”

“Oh, good,” Draco said, nodding for good measure. “I’d better tell Blaise to bring some Muggle money then. I’m not sure if he keeps it around unless we’re going to the continent.”

Harry couldn’t help it. Draco looked so cute now that he was done worrying. He began laughing—full body, belly laughs that brought him to his knees and tears to his eyes. “Oh, Merlin, Draco, do you always take things so seriously?”

When his fiancé was silent for a long time, Harry looked up to see a dark look in Draco’s storm grey eyes and sighed. “What?”

“Nothing,” the blond said, turning away to look out of the window of Harry’s sitting room. It was strange how well he seemed to fit the refurbished and reupholstered furniture in the Black house, but Harry guessed that it was only fitting, considering Narcissa and Andromeda were the last of the living Blacks.

“Come now, Draco, don’t be like that,” Harry whispered into the blond’s ear, placing a tiny kiss to his future spouse’s neck. When the other man shivered in desire, Harry could have crowed for joy. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but you are taking everything so seriously. I’m only taking the piss out of you a little. You should be glad that it’s not George. Merlin only knows what he’d do to you.”

“Speaking of the remaining Weasley twin, he approached me the night of the dinner at the Manor about the magic I used to create your doll.”

“Oh? Does he want to market it to annoy the rest of the Wizarding world?”

“Actually, yes, that’s exactly what he wants to do.” Harry was surprised when the blond turned around and looked about the room. “Speaking of, where is it?”

“Hiding,” Harry muttered, waving his hand and dispelling the Disillusionment and Silencing charms that had been constantly stuck on the annoying mini-Draco since the first day. “It’s too inconvenient to have it about when I’m doing my shopping or out with the Muggles.”

He watched as Draco inspected the first gift with a wistful expression on his chiselled features. “I could remove the Singing Spell and the Pick-Up Line Charm. Then, it would just be a little miniature of me to follow you around.”

“I’d like it if you did that, but perhaps I could just leave it on my mantle or something,” Harry said cautiously. He knew he was in trouble when Draco looked from the doll in his hands to Harry’s face with an almost predatory expression.

“I’ll allow that, but you have to keep it either on your bedside table or the bed itself,” Draco whispered huskily. His grey eyes were nearly black with lust.

Harry had to swallow as his body began to react violently to the open and naked desire he saw written all over his fiancé’s face. “O-okay,” he said after swallowing a few more times. “We only have a few more steps in the ritual, right?”

Draco blinked, his eyes clear once more. “Yes, are you looking forward to the bonding ceremony? I can assure you that that was what Mother, Aunt Andromeda and Mrs Weasley were discussing in your kitchen this evening.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Harry said, moving to sit down on the nearest loveseat. He smiled a bit when Draco took the seat next to him automatically. “What I meant is that we haven’t really discussed anything that normal couples talk about.”

“Such as?”

“Well, where are we going to live? Are we able to have children? How would we go about that? How are we going to spend the holidays between our two families? I don’t think that Teddy’s really going to be an issue, considering how close the two of you are.”

Draco sighed heavily. “Mother is living in the Manor right now, but I have a feeling that after Father’s death and our bonding that she will request to live in one of the other properties or perhaps go live with Andromeda and Teddy.”

“Um, I could always give her Grimmauld, if you don’t think that would insult her too much.”

Draco scrunched up his forehead as he thought, something that Harry hadn’t noticed before but found adorable nonetheless. “Actually, that might not be such a bad idea. Since she’s a Black by birth, the family magic might be more willing to let her make changes to the house than you. It would also allow her to be close enough to her friends here in England and the Manor. Besides, she’d be able to reach Diagon Alley without blinking.” Draco flashed Harry a bright smile that made Harry forget to breathe for a minute. “That’s a wonderful idea. Does that mean you’d be moving to the Manor then?”

Harry made a face of distaste that he knew Draco caught, but he couldn’t help it. “Can I get back to you about that? The dinner’s really the only good memory I have of your house, Draco.”

“Fine,” Draco said a little sharply. “We have time yet before that becomes an issue. We have to talk about the other issues anyway. I’d like children and as the last of the Malfoy line it’s expected that I have an heir. I can only assume that the same would be true for you, since you’re the last of the Potters as well, but I haven’t ever researched how to have a family outside of getting some tart I was forced into marrying pregnant. That’s something we can look into when the time is right.”

“Alright,” Harry said. He could tell by the tight way that Draco was holding himself that he was upset, but Harry didn’t know what to do to make the situation any better. “What about the holidays?”

“If we lived at the Manor, there wouldn’t be a problem, would there? We could have everyone over for any and all celebrations. They could even spend the night if they needed to. There are nearly one hundred rooms that are free for our family to use while visiting and no one would be forced into sharing unless they absolutely wanted to do so. I’m not sure what we could do about Granger’s preoccupation with the house-elves though.”

“Are you ever going to come with me to the Burrow?” Harry snapped. Draco’s high-handedness was starting to irk him something awful.

“I haven’t been invited,” Draco shot back. “I was taught that it’s bad manners to just show up at someone’s home without being expressly asked to come. Family is a different story, however.”

“Oh, for the love…” Harry yelled, jumping up from the loveseat and glaring at the still seated blond. “This conversation is over.”

“You’re the one who wanted to have it out right now, Harry,” Draco said defensively. “I don’t mind talking about these things, but I don’t like being told that my family home is no good for your adopted family while being treated as if I’m ridiculous for waiting to visit the Weasley home until I get an invitation from the head of the family that mine _has been feuding with for nearly twenty generations._ ” The blond’s face was an alarming shade of red and he was practically hissing every word. “Excuse me for being _sensible_.”

“Are you saying that I’m being an idiot then?” Harry yelled. “I can’t for the life of me see why you want to court and bond with me if I’m such an unreasonable moron. Perhaps we should call this whole thing off then?”

The instant those words were out of his mouth, Harry regretted them. Draco’s face paled dangerously and he looked as if Harry had smacked him. “You don’t mean that, do you?” Draco asked, sounding like a lost child.

“Of course _not_ ,” Harry said, feeling like a heel for having taken what Draco said personally. “I’m just…I don’t know. It’s difficult for me to deal with all of this. I’ve got to worry about how I can keep you and Ron from killing each other and if Ginny’s going to cause a scene. Molly just about gave me a nervous breakdown before you got here with her talk of all the things that the Weasleys and Malfoys have done to one another over the years. I was relieved to see you and Narcissa, and at the same time, I wanted nothing more than for everyone to go away so I could hide in my room.

“I feel like everything’s happening so fast and that I have no say in things anymore. I can’t breathe. I can’t relax. I can barely think before my attention is demanded by someone and I just want a few seconds to _myself_ , if that makes any sense.” Harry took a deep breath at the end of his rant, realising that he’d been pacing the entire time. He looked over at Draco, who wore an expression of regret.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco couldn’t help but wonder how long this rant of Harry’s had been building up. While _he_ had been enjoying the near whirlwind nature of their courting, Draco hadn’t considered how Harry might be taking it after their first date at the zoo with Teddy. The other man had always seemed somewhat hesitant, but Draco had just chalked that up to a distrust of his motives. He hadn’t really _thought_  about all the other things going on in Harry’s already full life and how he might be adding to Harry’s stress.

“It makes perfect sense, Harry,” Draco replied, getting up to seize one of Harry’s hands so he could place a gentle kiss to the back of it. “We _have_ been moving quickly, and I apologise for adding to your already very busy and stressful life. However, I am _not_ sorry for beginning this process.”

Harry rewarded him with a small, shy smile. “I’d punch you if you were. I think I’m stuck with you for good now, Malfoy.”

“I’m glad that you can be made to see reason, Potter. Severus always feared that you never would.”

“Yeah, well, Snape was unduly biased because he was in love with my mum and hated my dad and godfather. His opinion of me counted for less than naught, really.”

Draco felt compelled to smile. “You might have a slight point about him then, Harry.” He pulled away and cast a specialised _Finite_ on the doll, rendering it to nothing more than a twelve centimetre copy of himself. “For you,” he said with an exaggerated bow as he handed the stationary toy to his Intended. “Also, I have something to say that might help ease your mind on the situation between myself and your best friend.”

“Oh?” Harry asked, his eyes showing his curiosity so strongly that Draco felt the desire to kiss him breathless.

“I have reason to believe that your best friend and I are no longer ready to mutilate or murder one another.”

Harry grimaced, scrunching up his nose. “Yes, I gathered that.”

“You don’t sound so happy to hear my news.”

“It’s just that after lunch today I _did_ figure that the two of you might be willing to get along with one another, if only for me.”

“There is that, but I don’t find him anywhere near as repulsive as I once did. So, there’s room for improvement in our relationship, true, but you can see that we are both making the effort to get along.”

“Yeah, I saw that and I’m grateful,” Harry said with a wide smile.

“Just how grateful are you?” Draco asked, leaning in to kiss his Intended. Harry eyed him speculatively before pushing him away, sans the kiss. “Not that appreciative, I see.”

“I don’t see how me feeling thankful that you’re getting along with my friends translates into sex in your brain. It’s a rather scary place, you know.”

Draco couldn’t help but smile once again. “You have no idea, my dear Harry. None at all.”

“I am wiped from this afternoon. I don’t see how I’m supposed to be able to make it through dinner, especially if all of our friends are coming along as well.” Harry frowned as he plopped back down on his sofa. “I don’t think it would be so bad if Ginny hadn’t invited herself and Oliver to come with us as well.”

“I was under the impression that there was no ill-will between yourself and Wood. At least that’s what the press has been trying to cram down our throats for the last two years since your split with the Weaslette.”

“Oh, I have no problem with Ollie,” Harry said with a slight glare at Draco’s choice of description for his ex. “He’s a great bloke. And I even like him more now that I’m not being forced to follow his psychotic workout programme for Quidditch. He’s always been a bit beyond the normal bloke when it came to Quidditch. He _is_ one hell of a Keeper, though. It’s Gin I really don’t want to come along. She’s not been right since the articles, truth be told.”

Draco nodded, trying to swallow the bile that was threatening to ruin their conversation. _It would do no good and a great deal of harm if I spoke out against the Weaslette. Harry’s aware that I hold nothing but contempt for the daft bint, so there’s no need to speak aloud._ “I shall return home and let you get some rest then,” he said, making to head towards the sitting room where the Floo was located.

A hand on his arm stopped him and he turned around to stare at Harry, an eyebrow raised in question. “You can join me for my nap, if you promise to do nothing but sleep.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dinner had gone well, and afterwards, Parkinson had suggested they go to _Shack_ —a club the Slytherins had frequented before Draco began the whole courting process. Harry was definitely curious to see his fiancé’s old hunting grounds. Besides, he’d heard nothing but good things about the club from a few of his circle as well.

Harry should have known that the day had been going too well. Lunch between the families had gone great. Ginny hadn’t made a scene. Ron had been on his best behaviour with Draco. Narcissa had charmed all of the Weasley men with virtually no effort. And even Parkinson and Zabini had been more than civil with Harry.

Draco had stayed, and they’d had a little argument, but, considering that no hexes or punches had been thrown, it was a little nothing of a fight. Afterwards, Draco had joined Harry for a nap in his bedroom on the top floor. Then, the blond had helped him pick out an appropriate outfit for their dinner with their friends. They’d shared a heated kiss before Draco Apparated to Malfoy Manor to get ready also.

All-in-all, it had been damn near perfect. It couldn’t have lasted.

As soon as they walked through the doors of the club, Draco and his friends were set upon by a group of witches and wizards that kept saying things like “We missed you”, “Where have you been”, and Harry’s absolute favourite, “You look delicious, Draco. Later, yes?” that was followed up with a wink and a heated stare.

However, it was when two of their fellow Slytherin year-mates approached them that the evening went to hell-in-a-hand-basket.  Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis were only _too_ happy to fawn all over Draco, who seemed to be less than impressed with what they were trying to entice him into doing. In fact, he’d out and out stated that he wasn’t interested in sleeping with either of them, using the words trollop and strumpet to describe them and their behaviour. It wasn’t until Parkinson had threatened to gut them in front of the entire crowded club that they even left the table that Oliver and Ron had managed to secure when the group entered the club.

They might have been there an hour when Hermione spotted Ginny talking to the two girls by the bathrooms. She noted that it was a strange grouping, and while Harry agreed, he decided to keep his nose out of business that wasn’t his, after pointing Oliver in the general direction of his wayward fiancée.

Later, Draco had convinced Harry to join him on the dance floor and was moving suggestively against him when all of a sudden the blond stopped. Harry turned around to find Daphne Greengrass with her tongue shoved down Draco’s throat, while Draco just stood stock-still. He hadn’t even blinked his eyes. When Harry opened his mouth to say something, he was spun around by another woman and soundly kissed.

It wasn’t until he shoved his attacker away that he saw Ginny grinning like the Cheshire cat. “I told you he was no good, Harry,” she purred before Oliver came over and they started arguing.

“Touch me again, Greengrass, and I’ll make sure they never find your body,” Draco snarled, grabbing the gobsmacked Harry’s attention. His _fiancé_ looked as if he was a second away from the murder he was promising the smirking woman.

“Oh, you don’t really mean that, Draco,” she purred, running her hands down her body provocatively. “We used to have such fun together. Then you got this idea in your head to court _Harry Potter_ and you’re boring all of a sudden.” She gave a mock-pout that set Harry’s blood on fire with the urge to punch her in her magically plumped mouth.

“Well, Greengrass,” Harry snarled in shock and disgust at her vulgar display and Draco’s stoic expression in light of the woman’s offering. “You’re welcome to have him if he’s interested. I’m out of here.” And with that, he’d Apparated home.

A few seconds later, he heard pounding on his front door. He knew it was Draco and that they were going to row. He also knew that it would be ugly. And he felt that it was about time to end the farce of their courtship so that Draco could go back to his playboy days with stupid girls and even worse boys and Harry could return to his studies. It would be easier.

What he hadn’t expected was the anger and the force of Draco’s words stabbing him in the heart as he yelled and begged Harry to not end their relationship. To see the proud, regal blond that he’d come to respect, admire, and eventually _love_ brought so low made Harry ill, but it didn’t stop him from slamming the door in Draco’s face and burying himself in his Healing studies. He had a lot to make up.

TBC


	11. Apologise, If You Must

**Title:** Wooing the Reluctant  
 **Author:** Makoto Sagara  
 **Series:** Harry Potter  
 **Archive** : the usual suspects (ffnet, affnet, Foreverfandom, my site, mediaminer, makochanupdates on LJ, thehexfiles, hpfandom, and the harrydraco community on LJ); anywhere else, ask first.  
 **Pairing:** Draco/Harry, past Harry+others, past Draco/others  
 **Rating:** NC-17 (eventual; this chapter PG-13)   
**Warnings** : Slash, ooc, angst, language, humour, EWE  
 **Disclaimers:** I don’t own Harry Potter and his friends. They belong to a list of people, including the wonderful JKR, Warner Bros, Scholastic Publishing, Raincoat Books, and others. I’m only borrowing them for entertainment purposes.

 **Author’s Notes:** One more chapter to go! Thank you for all of the reviews. I hope you’re willing to stick with me until the end! And yes, Ginny and Daphne will get what’s coming to them. I promise. I kind of like living, and the reviews had me a little afraid for my life for about two or three minutes. This chapter has a lot in it, so it’s pretty long. Enjoy!

**Chapter Eleven - Apologize, If You Must  
If you make a mistake with your Intended, the words "I'm sorry" go a long way in healing harms.**

Draco pulled his covers over his head, determined not to get out of bed ever again. It had been four days since Harry had called off their courting over what had happened with Daphne and Ginevra at _Shack_. He’d been lucky enough to avoid his mother upon returning to the Manor, and since then, he’d refused post, meals, and visitors. For the last four days, he’d done nothing but _mope_ , as unseemly as that was.

When Harry had slammed the door to Number Twelve in his face, Draco was forced to realise, without a doubt, that he loved the stubborn Gryffindor. No one else had made him feel this way in his entire life, and now he had been shoved out into the cold—literally. He was vaguely surprised that he hadn’t cried over the entire ordeal, wondering how he was keeping it all at bay. He fully expected by now that he would have cried himself out, but somehow he’d remained dry-eyed, despite the itching that had remained constantly behind his closed lids.

His bedroom door was blasted open, causing Draco to flinch but otherwise remain under the safety of his covers. He didn’t really care anymore. It wasn’t the Dark Lord, his father, or the Ministry, and there was no way in hell that it was Harry. In other words, it wasn’t important to him at all because there was no way it could kill, imprison, or fix him.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, get your skinny, pale arse out of your bed this instant,” Pansy snarled as she ripped away his thin barrier from the world. Her pretty face went from angry to disgusted in two seconds flat. “Merlin, you smell like an outhouse. Have you showered lately?”

“Why bother?” he muttered, trying to snatch his blanket back from his best friend and failing spectacularly.

“Because you are perhaps the vainest person I know, and personal hygiene is an absolute must. Potter’s never going to take you back with you smelling like a dead body.”

“Harry’s never going to take me back, Pans, so what’s it matter?”

“Oh, Draco, you’ve got it bad,” she whispered, bending over to stroke his stringy, greasy hair. “You know, right now, you remind me a lot of Snape, except you look like your father. Please, love, get up and take a shower, shave, put on some clean clothes, and _then_ I’ll help you plot to win back that _stupid_ Gryffindor.”

For the first time in nearly ninety hours, a little ray of hope flared to life in Draco’s chest and he felt the corners of his mouth tip up into a tiny smirk. “I’m keeping you to your word on that, Parkinson,” he said as he slowly dragged his heavy limbs from his four-poster bed. It was then that he noticed that he did indeed _smell_ like an Inferus. “ _After_ I bathe,” he yelled, finding the energy to run to his en-suite bathroom.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A knock at the door downstairs made Harry look up from his Psychology book. He waved his wand in front of him, casting a nonverbal Look-See spell. Hermione and Ron were at his front door, _again,_ but this time they’d brought Zabini with them. _Why in the world have they brought one of_ his _friends with him? I’ve already told them that I came to my senses about the whole courting mess. There’s no way that a marriage could have worked between us. He’s too used to being fawned over, and I don’t want to be in a relationship with an immature, spoilt brat that I have nothing in common with besides Quidditch and a hatred of monkeys._

“You might as well give in, Potter,” Zabini yelled. Harry couldn’t help but stare at the dark-skinned man in shock. His normally bored facial features were curled into a snarl that reminded Harry of a Hogwarts-era Draco, complete with the flashing eyes and flared nostrils. “I hope you didn’t think that the warning Pansy and I gave you that day only applied if Pansy was the one who came after you. It doesn’t. Besides, Pansy’s taken the Weasley twin with her to the Manor.”

“He’s right, Harry,” Hermione added, wringing her hands. It was her new nervous tell. It kept her from pulling her hair out, or at least that’s what she’d told Harry and Ron nearly a year ago when she’d started doing it. “Think of this as a much needed intervention.”

“Mate, you have ten seconds before I forget about being an Auror and I break down your door to beat some sense into your thick skull,” Ron shouted. “I’ll just apologise to Kingsley and Robards later.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Harry shot back as he stormed down the stairs, making sure his voice projected through the door to his friends and their token Slytherin. He threw open the door to Number Twelve and found his best friend with his wand raised, as if to make good on his threat. “You know, I should call the authorities on you lot for disturbing the peace.”

“Shut your gob,” Ron said, smiling. “I _am_ the authorities. Besides, this citizen,” he indicated Zabini, “has a legitimate complaint against you.”

“What? Is Malfoy dragging him out all hours of the night away from his _lovely_ fiancée? I can’t imagine he’d be _complaining_ about being away from Parkinson.”

He hadn’t been expecting the fist that crashed into his face, although he should have. He was forced to stare up at his attacker and best friends in shock as he processed what happened to him. “You and Draco _deserve_ each other. You’re both so _fucking_ stubborn and idiotic that there’s no one else who could ever match up with you half as well,” Zabini snarled as he helped Harry stand once more. “That was just the first of many if you continue to be stupid, Potter. I don’t have patience for the wilfully ignorant. And I _did_ warn you that you wouldn’t like the way it turned out if you managed to hurt my friend. And I still owe you one for the insult to my future wife, you common prat.”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I find this little display of Slytherin loyalty a bit much,” Harry said as he rubbed his jaw. “Greengrass certainly had no problem proving that Malfoy has trouble with the concept.”

“You’re an idiot, Harry Potter,” Hermione snapped. Her outburst made all three men stare at her in surprise. “Malfoy has actually turned into a decent bloke, and a _blind man_ could see how besotted he is with you. Greengrass has always been a slag, and I’m sure that if she hadn’t been female that Malfoy would have probably tried to beat her to a bloody pulp for kissing him the way she did.”

“Yes, well, Daph’s never been big on any kind of fidelity. She says it’s a plebeian concept,” Zabini said with a sneer on his former housemate’s name. “That's probably because she’s never had a man that wanted to keep her around for any length of time.” He sighed heavily as he pushed passed Harry and moved into the front drawing room. He sat down on the couch and waited for the others to join him before talking again. “Look, I’ll grant you that Draco had his days of sowing wild oats and all that before he took up the idea to court you, Potter. It’s a fairly common occurrence, I’ve heard. Since then, though, he’s been a good boy, staying at home with Narcissa and trying to actually _implement_ all those _grand_ things he talked about in that interview he gave to Honeycomb.”

“In other words, Harry, you overreacted because my stupid sister and Greengrass got it in their empty heads to break the two of you up,” Ron said sadly, shaking his head. “And it worked too, for the most part; although, I don’t think Gin really expected Oliver to call off _their_ engagement like he did.”

“Ollie broke up with her?” Harry asked, stunned that the other man had so decisively called it quits with Ginny.

“Yes, well, he’s no fool, and it’s obvious to everyone that she’s still not over you,” Ron replied.

“That’s her problem,” Hermione added. “She should have considered that before she decided that she couldn’t remain faithful to Harry when _they_ were engaged, now shouldn’t she? I just feel so sorry for Oliver. He’s completely distraught about the whole thing. I don’t think he ever considered that Ginny would do something like that, let alone to him.”

“Merlin, if she’d do it to Potter, Wood was screwed from the start. I remember her from school. In sixth and seventh years she was pretty bad,” Zabini muttered before turning to face Ron and Hermione. “Sorry, Weasley, but your sister is every bit of a slag as Daph. I’m starting to actually pity Wood and Potter, and I make it a point to never feel sorry for others who behave stupidly.”

Ron shrugged. “I’ll not fight you on that point, but that’s not really why we’re here, now is it?”

“True,” the dark-skinned man said before glaring at Harry with dangerous eyes. “As I was saying, Draco’s bent over _back_ wards trying to prove to you that he’s serious about being with you and is worthy of your precious time. Between him, Narcissa, Pansy, my mother, and Pansy’s mum I’ve _had_ it with all the wedding talk. I’d say that I want my best friend back, but I’m scared to think that this person probably has been lurking under the surface of Draco for ages now. He’s downright turned into a Hufflepuff, for Merlin’s sake!”

Hermione sighed dramatically, catching Harry’s attention once more. “It’s obvious to everyone who knows and loves you, Harry, that you and Draco are a great match. You two were _so_ happy at lunch and dinner that day. So, evidently, it’s more than just the scene at the club that’s got your hackles up like this.”

“I don’t want—”

“That’s too bad,” Zabini cut across him. “Look, Potter, whatever it is that’s got your knickers in a knot, you’d better tell us now so that it can be fixed and you and Draco can get back together. Merlin knows that if I have to hear Narcissa fret over her precious son for a second more, I might lock the two of you up in the dungeons at the Manor and leave you there permanently.” Harry’s hateful glare was deftly ignored by the Slytherin. “So, you might as well spill your…What’s that annoying Muggle phrase, Granger?”

“Do you mean spill your guts?” she replied.

“That’d be the one. So, come along, Harry; spill your guts to your good friends so we can all go back to our own lives.”

“We had a little argument earlier that day,” Harry said reluctantly. “And before you all ask about what, I’ll tell you; we were fighting over children and where we’d live after this was all over.” Both Ron and Zabini nodded in understanding, but it was Hermione who looked stumped.

“Why would you two fight about those things?” she asked. “I always assumed that you both wanted to have children. And why wouldn’t you live here at Grimmauld?”

“Granger, please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m well aware that you are a brilliant witch, but that was perhaps the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say in all the years we’ve known one another,” Zabini said with a sad shake of his head. “Yes, Draco wants children, in the way that all purebloods want children. Well, besides the Weasleys, I’m sure. However, it’s paramount for Draco to have an heir. He’s a lord. He _must_ have an heir for the continuance of the line or his family’s magic might turn on him. Also, since he _is_ a lord, he has to spend at least seventy-five per cent of the year at Malfoy Manor.”

“Oh,” Hermione said after a few moments of silence. “Well, I can see how that would be a problem.”

“So, I take it that you told Malfoy that you had problems with living there,” Ron said slowly.

“Actually, I didn’t say anything,” Harry admitted in a small voice. “I just…I don’t know if I’m comfortable enough to live in a home where Voldemort kept his headquarters and was the site of killings and tortures of people I knew.”

“Potter, for a long time, Draco and Narcissa had a hard time being there too,” Zabini said in a quiet tone. “The rooms that you see now have been so redone that the Manor is practically a different place than what it was when we were kids. You know some of what Draco went through at the time that they were forced to house the Death Eaters. It was obvious from your testimony at his trial. So, you can understand that it was only the fact that his father was still alive that kept him from tearing the whole thing down and rebuilding.”

“That still doesn’t stop me from thinking that this room might be the spot where Bellatrix tortured Hermione or that room is where I stole Draco’s wand and where Dobby spent the last few seconds of his life,” Harry whispered heatedly. “I don’t blame Draco or Narcissa for what happened. They did all that they could to protect each other, and they both lied for me at one time or another. However, I still can’t get over the fact that his _home_ was the site of atrocities. It’s a very overwhelming fact.”

“Do you know what’s overwhelming?” Ron asked angrily. “The fact that you decided that it was Malfoy’s fault for what happened at the club that night. If anything, the poor bloke was assaulted just as much as you were by a crazy twit that doesn’t know how to take no as a final answer. I also know that he threatened her with death if she tried to touch him again. That’s _not_ the sign of a man who wants to cheat on the man he’s courting and intending to marry.”

“Also, my friend was very quick to follow after you just left him in the middle of the dance floor like that, Potter,” Zabini added.

The unusual double teaming of Ron and the Slytherin was starting to wear Harry down. He closed his eyes against the burning sting that had sprung up and put up a hand to silence the two men. He felt slim, familiar arms wrap around him, and he buried his head in her bushy hair.

“I’ve screwed up, haven’t I?” he asked hoarsely.

“A little,” Hermione answered, stroking his hair gently. “But, you know, this _is_ one of the steps in the courting process. Now, we find out how to tell Malfoy that you’re sorry.”

“Seriously?” He looked up at her with a sceptical look.

“Actually, she’s right,” Zabini said thoughtfully. “I can help you with him, if you’re serious about making this work. Otherwise, I’m going to have to break your kneecaps.”

“You sound like some Sicilian mafioso,” Harry muttered as he buried his face in his best friend’s hair again. “But I’d like your help anyway.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco hadn’t expected for George Weasley to be looking around his private sitting room when he walked into it after his shower and dressing. “Where did Pansy go, Weasley?”

“Oh, well, Parkinson said she was going to tell your mother that you’d finally emerged from your cave,” George said with a wide smile. “I thought it was a rather good analogy, considering your name.”

Draco felt himself smiling again and shook his head fondly. “So, you’re her backup for this attempt to get me to ‘wise up’?” He calmly took his seat on the couch near the fireplace.

“When you put it like that, it does sound rather stupid,” the redhead said as he sat down across from Draco. The smile he’d been wearing faded rather quickly. “You’ll be happy to know that Ginny has been banished from Mum and Dad’s until she can prove that she’s not about to go nuts over Harry again. And Oliver’s ended their engagement. I’m sure it’ll be all over the papers by tomorrow, especially since I sent in the notice to the _Prophet_ myself _._ ”

“I’m not entirely happy to hear that, Weasley. It’s the least she deserves, if you ask me.”

“Look, if you can call ickle Ronniekins by his first name, you should be able to do the same with me. I’m much more personable than he is anyway.” The mischievous smile that Draco remembered from Hogwarts returned to the other man’s face.

“I can agree with that, George,” Draco replied. “Tea?”

“Yes, please; with Angie and Lee watching over the shop and little Freddie today, I can afford a bit of a chat with you and Parkinson.”

“I must admit that you and Pansy make a very unlikely pairing. Where is Blaise?” Draco asked while calling a house-elf to bring tea and sandwiches. Now that he was up and moving around, he found that he was _starving_. Besides, he knew that the news would get back to his mother and that would save her from pestering him about taking nourishment.

“He’s out knocking some sense into Harry with Ron and Hermione, if I’ve remembered the plan correctly.”

“You have, Weasley,” Pansy said as she entered the room. Her brown eyes cut to the door she’d blasted down. “You _are_ going to call an elf to fix that, yes?”

“Later,” Draco answered, crossing one long leg over the other. “So, let’s assume that I’ve had my little talking-to, shall we? What is the next step?”

“The next step, dearest, is that we figure out how to make those little twats pay for being stupid enough to get between you and Potter. Despite what Weasley has said, I don’t think Ginevra is ready to just give up on her pursuit of her little boy-hero.”

“Harry’s not a boy,” Draco responded lazily as he munched delicately on a cucumber sandwich. _It’s so nice that I don’t have to tell the elves what to bring me anymore_.

“Well, I should hope not, with the way that you and Ginny are so obsessed over him,” George replied jovially. “Look, Parkinson, I know that everyone is mad at my sister, and that’s fine. She’s screwed up majorly this time. No one in the family’s going to defend her against ruining _two_ relationships with her selfishness, but she’s _still_ my sister.”

“Are you asking me to let your family deal with her then, Weasley?” Pansy asked archly.

“Yes.”

“Done, but you’d better make sure that she’s punished adequately. And I don’t just mean that her engagement with Wood is broken and she’s shunned for a bit.”

Draco watched as his best friend glared coldly at the lone Gryffindor in their midst. _Mother will be so proud that Pansy learned that little trick from her,_ he thought.

“I want her to _pay_ for what she’s done to my best friend,” Pansy continued icily.

“Pans, love, I _do_ appreciate your defence of me. It endears you to my heart in ways you can’t begin to imagine,” Draco drawled. “However, Ginevra’s pain and/or punishment is secondary to getting Harry back, in my opinion. That’s all I care about right now. Revenge on her is for later.”

Pansy stared at her best friend as if he’d grown a second head. “Blaise was right when he said that this Hufflepuff has been looming in the distance the whole time we’ve know you. Lucius would deny you as his child if he could see you.” She sighed heavily. “Fine, but I am still going to take down Daphne and Tracey, whether you help or not. I detest them both.”

Draco gave her and George a cold smile. “Now, see, I said nothing about Daphne and Tracey waiting for later, did I?”

George smiled widely, his white teeth flashing almost hungrily. “See, I like the way you think, Malfoy.”

“Pansy, remember those photos that we took of them during seventh year?”

“Well, of course, dearest, but…” She paused and gave her own version of Draco and George’s smiles. “Skeeter?”

“Who else but that obnoxious beetle would do them justice?” He took a long sip of the Darjeeling tea the elves had prepared. “Oh, you might want to send a copy to the Aurors as well; Ronald, specifically, if you can manage it. I’m sure the Ministry would love to know that they are still up to their old tricks.”

“And what are you tipping my brother off about?” George asked.

“Well, it just so happens that Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis were the biggest brewers of illegal Ecstasy Potions during our horrid seventh year and they haven’t stopped,” Pansy answered sweetly. “They were stupid enough to let that information slip to Draco. So, we three—counting Blaise—managed to obtain photographic proof of their shenanigans.”

“They’re dealing in eX-Pos?” George shook his head. “Malfoy, I take back every bad thing I said about you and your mum. The ones about your dad still stand.”

“Fair enough,” Draco responded. “I’m not unreasonable about what my father has done over the years now that I’m older. Now, onto more important topics, if you please. How can I get Harry back?”

“I heard you pushed Greengrass off of you with a death threat after she kissed you, so Harry wasn’t really upset about that. He was already angry and that was just an excuse he used,” George said slowly. “Did you two have a fight after lunch that day?”

“It was a slight disagreement, or so I thought at the time.” Draco finished off his tea and another small finger sandwich while he remembered the fight. “He was panicking about how things were progressing so quickly. Now, I can see he was right to worry. What’s that expression that the Yanks use, Pans? He was waiting for the other boot to drop?”

“Close enough, dearest, but it’s ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop.’ What did he say?”

“Well, to be honest, we’d only been talking about the past and some of the present until that point in time. He seemed to be unduly worried about the future.”

“Unduly?” George asked, his smile fading again. “You know, for a long time, he thought he wasn’t going to live to _have_ a career outside of Hogwarts. In fact, he told us all that he actually had to _die_ to kill Voldemort. So, worrying about the future is a positive sign, I think. He hadn’t really been doing that since he called off the engagement with my sister for her being a cheating bitch.”

“He told you about that?” Draco asked. “He told me that he’d only told Ronald and Hermione about why he had left Ginevra.”

“Yes, well, Mum made her tell the entire family after Oliver broke up with her too.” The redhead frowned. “Sadly, Angie and I figured it was something like that. Harry’s pretty generous when it comes to those he loves. My stupid brother is proof of that, but he doesn’t forgive betrayal very easily.”

“Yes, yes, we all know about Potter’s tendency to forgive those around him too easily,” Pansy snarled. “I only wished that he would use common sense. It was obvious to everyone in that club that Draco did _not_ invite or enjoy that kiss from Daphne. I especially loved your remark to her afterwards, dearest, but you know that she’s dumber than a Crup in a Kneazle pen.”

“ _That_ is why we are releasing all those lovely photos that Blaise took, Pans.” He shook his blond head in disgust. “Now, what can I do to make him see that I’m serious about everything, yet again?”

“Draco, I hate to tell you this, but it’s Harry that needs to man up and apologize for making a big deal out of the fact that you were pretty much face-raped on a dance floor,” George said as he took a finger sandwich and stared at it sullenly before popping the entire thing in his mouth. At least he swallowed before he spoke again, which was more than Ronald did at lunch the other day. “But, ‘Mione, Ron and Zabini will work on that. What kind of things did the two of you disagree over?”

“It wasn’t so much as disagree as we brought them up and then he just shoved them to the side to tell me how stressed out he’s been since the beginning of our courtship,” Draco answered honestly. “But our topics were children to continue the lines and where we would live after the bonding ceremony.”

“You’ll be living here, of course,” Pansy said. “You can’t really live anywhere else, can you?”

“It’s not that simple, Pansy,” Draco said sullenly. “Harry has been to the Manor exactly twice. The first time he and his friends were held prisoner and Granger was tortured by my aunt Bella. The second time was the dinner we had where I gave him the ring.”

“Did he return the ring, Draco?” George asked suddenly.

“No,” the blond answered. “He slammed the door in my face and told me it was over.”

“Then he didn’t mean it,” the redhead said happily. “If he’d had, he would have returned the ring by now. I’m going to assume that it has the binding spell that keeps it from being stolen, right?”

“Of course it did! Do you think I’m stupid?” Draco snapped.

“Dearest, he didn’t mean it like that,” Pansy cut in. “I get what you’re saying Weasley. If Potter had really meant that the courting was over, the ring would have lost the enchantment and he would have returned it.”

“Exactly,” George said, eating two more of the cucumber sandwiches. “Now, I can help you with some stuff for Harry. You’re at the apology stage, right?”

“Yes, but you said that I don’t need to do that,” Draco said, puzzled at the change in topic, but hopeful that the redhead and his best friend were correct.

“You still have to give a gift, Malfoy, since you initiated the ritual,” George said.

“Merlin, you’re right,” he growled in response. “Fine, so we’ll tackle the children issue first. I want them. He wants them. We actually _need_ them to continue the family names and so the Malfoy family magic doesn’t castrate me or some such atrocity. What are my choices, Pans?”

“Really, darling, I had _hoped_ you would ask _me_ about this before now,” Narcissa said from the doorway. “I will forgive you because I know that you’ve been preoccupied until this moment.” She smiled as she waved a stack of parchments in her hands.

“Mother, what have you found?” he asked, delighted to see his beloved mother for the first time in days.

“Well, you have two options, from what I can see,” she answered, shuffling a few of the parchments as she took the seat next to him on his couch. “The Muggles have adapted these from us, but that doesn’t keep them from being useful. There is the adoption of a child that ties to one or more sides of the family. Teddy would be a great example, since the Healers don’t think that he inherited any of the werewolf traits from Remus Lupin, aside from his obsession with eating a lot of red meat. He’s practically Harry’s child anyway. It would only take a little Blood Magic to make him a Malfoy or a Potter, depending on what you wish.

“The other option is surrogacy, but the carrier would have to be someone that we all explicitly trusted, and I would suggest that she’d already had at least one child of her own.”

“And how would you suggest that I present these options to Harry, Mother?” Draco asked. He looked over to see interested looks on the faces of his friends. “He’s not exactly speaking to me at the moment, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Narcissa raised one thin, perfectly sculpted blonde eyebrow at him. “If you continue talking to me like that, I do believe that I won’t let you know the second part of what I had planned.”

“No, Mother, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, before she could make good on her threat. He knew better than to push her when she used that tone. “Please tell me. I am at your disposal.”

“Well, when you beg so prettily, Draco. This is what I had in mind…”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Are you sure that this is going to work?” Harry asked Zabini again. The Slytherin glared at him in annoyance. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous. He’d be well within his rights to tell me to get lost and never contact him again.”

“Merlin, Potter, you’re a mess,” Zabini muttered. “I’ve told you ten times before now that this is the best thing you could do. Now, are you going to be able to stomach so much time around the Manor?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You always have a choice, Harry,” Hermione offered from his other side, staring at the imposing iron gates in front of Malfoy Manor. “We could go home and you could return Draco’s ring with the intention of never seeing him again.”

Harry frowned as he turned to look back at the Manor himself. “Not an option, so let’s just get this over with. And you’re sure he’s there, Zabini?”

“That’s what Pansy said. Look, Potter, I’m still pissed at you for what you’ve said about my fiancée, even if you have apologised about it, so if you bollix this up, I’ll be beating you to a pulp, Saviour of the Wizarding World or not.”

“Fair enough,” Harry replied stoically. “Although, I _am_ sorry that I was so nasty about Parkinson; she’s not so bad, I guess.”

“If you’re really _that_ sorry, fix this crap with Draco,” Zabini ordered before marching up the long drive to the portico of the grand estate home. Harry and Hermione followed him at a more sedate pace, both lost in their own thoughts. “And would you mind terribly hurrying the fuck up? I have dinner with my mother, and she does _not_ like to be kept waiting.”

Straightening his back, Harry took a deep breath and marched up the long drive as if he was facing his death—again. He could hear Hermione following behind him so that he didn’t attempt to Apparate back to Grimmauld Place and forget this whole thing. When he reached the steps that lead to the grandiose oak doors, he could feel the weight of the majestic manor and all of its consequence.

“Should we knock?” he whispered to Zabini. The other man ignored his stupidity and rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, one of the grand portals opened a few inches and a little green-skinned and wrinkled face could just be seen looking up at the group of humans. “Is your master home?” Harry asked. He was surprised at how strong his voice sounded when on the inside he felt like he was ready to be ill.

“Master Draco is already having company right now,” the elf said sadly. “If you is to be coming back later, he is sure to be seeing you then.”

“Trinky, tell Draco that I am here with Potter and Granger,” Zabini snapped impatiently.

“Yes, Master Blaise, I is going to get Master Draco right now,” Trinky squeaked before Disapparating as quickly as it could.

“Merlin, that elf is older than Lucius,” Zabini muttered darkly. “Thinks he owns the bloody Manor. Come along, you two. We’ll wait in the foyer for Draco and the others.” He swept through the open doorway and Harry and Hermione were forced to follow him or have the door shut in their faces.

They didn’t have to wait long. Before Harry could begin to rethink his decision, the sound of footsteps caught his attention. Looking up, he saw George escorting Narcissa down the grand staircase, with Draco leading Pansy. The younger woman’s face was like stone, showing absolutely no emotion. It was a little intimidating, if he was honest with himself. Draco was just as blank and just as stiff.

“Well, Blaise, my love, I do believe that you are keeping rather interesting company right now,” Parkinson said as she left Draco’s side and joined her fiancé. “Did he give you any trouble?”

“No more than we expected,” Zabini answered with a fond smile. “Weasley and Granger were quite adequate for what I had to do. I can assume that _your_ Weasley was helpful?”

“Actually,” George cut in, “I don’t belong to her. My wife wouldn’t really approve of that, you know. Anyway, I only stayed so that I could take Hermione home. Promised Ron I would.” Harry saw Hermione roll her eyes before she turned to _him_ , her face stern.

“You remember what we talked about,” she whispered. “If you screw up now, it won’t be Zabini you’ll have to worry about.”

“I understand, ‘Mione,” Harry muttered before cutting his eyes to drink in Draco. The blond was standing far too still and a quick look at his face showed Harry that he hadn’t been sleeping since they’d parted. His heart clenched in his chest, but he knew they had to get rid of their friends before anything could be resolved. “I’ll write you to let you know how it goes.”

With a curt nod, Hermione dragged George off, after exchanging a few words with Narcissa and Parkinson in low voices. The next to leave were Zabini and Parkinson. The woman only glared at Harry before kissing Draco on both of his cheeks. Zabini’s leave-taking was a little warmer, but the blank look on his face was more than enough to remind Harry of why he was here at this time.

“Harry, it is delightful to see you once more,” Narcissa said warmly. She flashed him an encouraging smile that bolstered his spirits just as he needed. “I would love to stay and chat with you, but I’m afraid that I have some urgent business to attend to. Shall I be seeing you for dinner?”

“I don’t know yet, Narcissa. It’s really up to Draco,” Harry said quietly, trying to steal another look at the blond. “We’ll see?”

“Of course,” she answered sadly. “Love, I shall be in my study if you need me,” she said to her son.

“Yes, Mother, thank you,” Draco said finally. He moved to kiss her on the cheek, and Harry noticed how Narcissa squeezed Draco’s bicep before she took off down the left hallway. “I’m surprised that you chose to come here, Potter,” the blond began.

“Can we just _not_ do that, Draco?” Harry asked. “I think we’re well beyond the whole Potter-Malfoy shtick at this point.”

Draco smiled quickly before his face fell blank again. “You may have a point there, _Harry_. So, what it is that I can do for you?”

 _So much,_ Harry thought sadly. “First, can we sit down and talk a bit? I owe you a huge apology and an even bigger explanation. I’d rather not do it in the foyer.”

“Yes, but we will conduct this in my private sitting room,” Draco said. Harry recognized that it was some sort of challenge, and since it fit in with part of what he’d planned, he saw little harm in actually accepting the conversation on Draco’s terms. It was the least he could do.

“Okay,” Harry said finally.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco could feel his body practically trembling with the desire to touch Harry now that the other man was so close. Whether that was to kiss or punch him, it was hard to determine. So, Draco wisely kept his hands to himself and, instead of Apparating them to his private rooms as he normally would have, he slowly walked Harry down the different corridors. He made a point to show anything of interest to his companion, who remained quiet and withdrawn as they travelled.

 _He said he’s come to apologize and explain things to me, but I don’t know if I want to hear any of it. I_ do _hope that George was correct that Harry wasn’t serious about ending our courting. He seemed serious enough when he slammed the door to his house in my face the other night. Surely the Weasel, the Mudblood, and Blaise couldn’t have made that much of an impression the stupid idiot, could they?_

When they arrived in front of the door that led to the room he’d vacated only a short time before, Draco grimaced. “The elves might be repairing the door to my bedroom when we enter. Pansy was a _bit_ enthusiastic at trying to get my attention when she and George arrived.”

“Why would Parkinson have done something to your door, Draco?” Harry asked curiously. His large green eyes shone from behind his glasses.

“I _might_ have spelled it locked with a few Dark spells my father taught me,” Draco responded carefully. When he received no response, he opened the sitting room’s door to find the tea service still placed where he and the others had left it. “Sit anywhere you like,” he said, waving his arms at the intimate seat arrangement before the large and empty fireplace.

Harry, instead of sitting, looked around. He appeared to be drinking in all of the details, from the rich, blue wallpaper with cream accents to the cream carpeting and the ash furniture throughout the entire room. “It’s not at all like I imagined.”

“And what did you think that my sitting room would look like?” Draco teased. The longer he remained in Harry’s presence, the more relaxed he grew. He still felt torn between snogging and thrashing Harry, but he felt that should he touch the other man, he could control the urge.

 “Let me guess. Dark woods, green fabrics and silver accents; as if I still lived in the Slytherin dorms. Am I right?””

“Actually, I thought it would all be shades of grey and blue, like your family’s crest that is so proudly displayed in the foyer,” Harry said matter-of-factly before sitting down in the spot Draco had occupied earlier. The sight of the man he loved in his own part of the house—in his rooms no less—made Draco feel giddy, but he pushed the irrational feeling down as quickly as it shot up. “Zabini told me that you had nearly the entire Manor redecorated after you were made Lord Malfoy.”

“Yes, well, I didn’t want to live in a place that was synonymous with the Dark Lord’s headquarters,” Draco said, taking the seat next to Harry, but making sure to _not_ touch him still. “It took weeks before Mother and I could agree on some of the more heavily used rooms. Eventually, there were a few that we just had either boarded up or repurposed. The dungeons have been filled in, thankfully. I don’t think that I could have stood going down there after everything was done and over with.”

Harry gave him a small smile. “You’re kinda cute when you babble, Draco.” When Harry turned to face him fully, Draco’s retort died on his tongue quickly. “As I said, I owe you an apology for how I acted the last time we talked. I _knew_ that Ginny had set it up with Greengrass. I didn’t really think that you’d try to do something so hurtful like that to me. I think better of you than that.

“The problem…” Harry sighed heavily and closed his eyes as if he was trying to think about what he said before he said it. “The problem is this, Draco. You started this courting idea as a lark, right?”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true. I was more enamoured of the idea of having you bend to my will than anything else.” Draco frowned as he thought about what he’d just said. “I can see how that would be an issue, but have I not proven how serious about being with you I am by now?”

“Serious, yes, but I don’t really know how you feel about me,” Harry said, his face doing an admirable impression of a tomato. “You’ve never said, aside from the fact that you find me attractive and that you respect me a bit.”

“Oh,” Draco said reflexively, trying to think back over their conversations and letters. “I haven’t. So, you mean that you’ve felt unsure about my feelings this entire time? Why did you not demand to know before now?”

Harry stared at him with those green eyes that had started this whole mess, and Draco felt his resolve to hold back melt. Slowly, he took Harry’s nearest hand and softly, lovingly traced its knuckles with his fingers as he begun to speak. “If you had demanded an answer from me before this issue popped up, I would have told you that I’ve never felt this way about anyone, regardless of how long we have actually known one another. You are the only person that I have wanted to get to know better. Pansy and I were betrothed as children, so there was no mystery with her. That meant that our relationship was extremely tame and safe. I loved her, but I realised that it was more fraternal than the way a lover feels about his beloved. No one else has even come close to what Pansy and I shared so briefly as children, and it is so vastly different from how I feel about you, you imbecile.”

Harry took a deep breath before he retorted. “It took me a few months after breaking the engagement with Ginny to realise that that’s how I see her as well—an annoying little sister than you can’t help but love. And no one else has even registered as a blip when it comes to romantic feelings. Until now.”

“You, perhaps, feel that way about Ginevra Weasley,” Draco drawled. “I assure you that I could happily pummel her after the little trick she and Daphne pulled.” He gave Harry a wry smile. “I thought by now that you would demand that I tell you already.”

Harry shook his head, making his dark fringe sweep across his golden-framed spectacles and calling attention to his lovely cheekbones. Draco stared as a man transfixed, feeling the itch to kiss Harry grow as he continued to sit and touch him as he was. “Draco, I’m not going to demand that you tell me, but it would be nice to know how you really felt about me,” Harry whispered.

“I love you, you emotional wreck,” Draco responded slowly. “I realised it perhaps during our argument after lunch that day, but it was when the door slammed shut in my face that it hit me. Do you think I could have actually _begged_ you to reconsider if this was anything less?”

“No,” Harry breathed. “It was then that I thought that it might be that you loved me, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from distancing myself from you.”

“I’d never begged anyone for anything before. I only had to ask my father for something and it was mine. You’ve always managed to deny me, Harry.” Draco leaned in and placed a light, chaste kiss to Harry’s flushed cheek, breathing in Harry’s smell—still that wonderful combination of woods, dusk, and _Harry_ that he’d come to love almost as much as the man it belonged to. “You’ve yet to apologise.”

“I’m sorry, Draco. Truly and desperately sorry,” Harry replied. “I should _never_ have reacted like that and nothing I can say will excuse it. You deserve so much more than what I’ve given you.” Green eyes were turned up, swimming with contrition. “Can you _ever_ forgive me?”

The corners of Draco’s mouth turned up in a fond smile while he kept eye contact with his Intended. “I suppose so, considering you never truly meant to end our courting.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked with an adorably puzzled expression.

Draco answered by lifting up Harry’s left hand and kissing it right above the platinum and emerald ring. “If you had, this ring would have all but fallen off of your finger, forcing you to return it, as it is a Malfoy heirloom.”

“So, this is our first _real_ argument as a couple, right?” Harry asked. When Draco just looked at him, he clarified his statement. “Well, according to ‘Mione, every couple before they get married or bonded has at least one fight where the relationship nearly ends.”

“I think we could have done without this particular little mile marker,” Draco said. “Now, not to change the subject, but I was under the impression that you hated the Manor. I was beyond surprised when the wards alerted me to your arrival.”

“Zabini explained to me that you actually _have_ to live here for most of the year. I figured if that was the case—and that if you were worth all the trouble, which I think you are—then I’d have to get used to this monstrosity eventually.”

“I will have to give Blaise and Pansy an excellent wedding gift at this rate.” Draco squeezed the hand he’d yet to release. “So, shall I show you around?”

“Maybe later,” Harry replied. “Merlin, Draco, I’m surprised you’ve forgiven me so easily. I was sure that you’d make me beg for forgiveness and swear to carry your first born myself.”

“Even magic hasn’t found a way around basic human physiology, Harry, but that is a _very_ interesting thought. I would love to see you swollen with my child, showing everyone that you love me enough to do so.” He stopped speaking, his smile dying on his lips.

“What?” Harry asked worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

“You haven’t told me that you love me yet, I just realised.” He closed his eyes as he felt like he’d been punched in the gut by the revelation. “I just assumed, which is pretty much how we ended up in this mess in the first place.”

“I do, you know. I love you, Malfoy.” Harry leaned in and gave Draco a heart-achingly sweet kiss. “I should have said so when I told you that I didn’t think I could get rid of you. That’s why I never wanted to end our courting.”

“Well, it’s fortuitous for me that magic listens to your intent, not your words,” Draco said with a sweet smile. “Since we’re still talking about things, I would like to discuss the issue of progeny.”

“Progeny, huh?” Harry asked with his head tilted to the side. “You know, it’s a good thing I’ve gotten better at translating your unnecessary terms into more common, everyday words.”

“I don’t use them unless I have to because they _are_ common, as you said. Now, shall we begin?”

“Draco, we both want them. We both, truthfully, need to have children. So, what is the issue?”

“Mother has found two very viable solutions, and I would like to share them with you. I understand that this is something that we won’t be tackling right away, since we are both extremely busy in our own ways, but they will be there when we need them.” He waited until he had Harry’s full attention. “The first is—”

“Draco, we don’t have to continue this conversation,” Harry interrupted suddenly. “It’s enough to know that you bothered to find out at all before we were bonded.”

The blond took a deep breath before he spoke again. “Harry, it is the fact that you shut down our previous attempt to have this _same_ talk that led to your blow up. I would rather avoid that again, if you don’t mind.”

“No, it’s enough to know that we both want to have a family eventually that is important, right?”

“I suppose so,” Draco answered hesitantly. “I kept the research that Mother conducted. We can look it over when the time is right. You can even let Granger look it over to her heart’s content. I’m sure she’d enjoy that. However, that does leave us with another, rather large problem that we must talk about: the Manor.”

“I understand that you have to live here because of the magic that’s tied into your title as Lord Malfoy,” Harry said distastefully. “I have a compromise.”

“I’m listening.”

“My parents’ cottage in Godric’s Hollow is in extreme disrepair. It’s a veritable ruin, actually. Technically, I own the land the ruins stand on. I’ve talked to a magical architect in London about a possible rebuild there. There might be a few problems, considering it’s been turned into a historical site, not to mention all the magic still flying around the property. I’ll need a good solicitor to help me gain the permits to do anything there, but I’d like to rebuild the house I was born in.”

“And you are proposing that we live in your birth home for the majority of our time, as opposed to here at the Manor?”

“Not really,” Harry said tiredly. “What I’m saying is that we could live here during the week, and, on the weekends, we could stay at the cottage.”

Draco thought over the proposal. “And all holidays and birthdays would be held here? Mother might protest otherwise.”

“I’m sure that Molly could be convinced to let you host the celebrations where there’s more space for the grandchildren.” Harry flashed him a smile before rooting around in his robe pocket. “A-HA!” He pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment and handed it to Draco with a flourish. “I would have sent it over with Horus, but I was headed this way anyway, so I thought I’d spare him the trip between Wiltshire and London for no real reason. I’d rather avoid having the hawk you gave me irritated for something I could have easily handled.”

“What’s this?” Draco asked, looking at the scroll he held before turning back to a beaming Harry.

“That is the agreement contract of a Potions Master who is willing to take you on as an apprentice to finish up your Mastery. He was only too excited when I told him that you’d spent two years under Severus Snape.”

“And he didn’t care about it being me?”

“Master Kelvin said he didn’t care if you were a Malfoy, Death Eater or Voldemort himself, so long as you could brew. Since you’d spent two years as Snape’s apprentice, he’d take you on at any time you were willing to begin.”

“Well, that goes along with what I wanted to give you,” Draco said with a slightly shocked smile. He pulled out his own parchment and handed it over to Harry. “It’s an agreement with the same realtor that George and his twin used to purchase their shop. He’s agreed to allow you your choice of properties on Diagon Alley for your practice when you graduate.”

“Then I can pick one with a room big enough for your lab?” Harry asked, sounding shocked himself.

“Ah, yes, about that,” Draco said. He pulled out another piece of parchment. “This is my agreement with you to brew all of your potions exclusively until such a time that we both feel it is prudent to move on.”

“Then, are you saying that we’re okay again?”

“There is just one more thing that I would like to give you, but it is not conventional and it might be just a bit strange.” Harry blinked at Draco, completely puzzled. _And with good reason,_ Draco thought as he brought out the small vial of his own blood on a chain.

“Is that—ugh—blood?”

“Yes, it is my own,” Draco said as he played with the clasp nervously. “There are many spells that could be used with just this small amount that could do so much damage to me, my mother, and everything belonging to the Malfoy line. I am giving it to you as a symbol of my love and trust in all that you are." He moved to place it around Harry’s neck, but the other man stopped him with a shaking hand.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Harry asked. “I mean, what if I’m attacked and the chain’s removed so someone could use your blood against us?”

“That’s what the ring is for,” Draco said as he successfully hung the chain so the pendant vial rested in the hollow of Harry’s throat. “Should anyone be stupid enough to try and attack you, the ring will protect you and alert me. Then, they would pay, most painfully.”

Harry shivered before looking into Draco’s eyes earnestly. “So, _are_ we okay again?”

“Yes, we are,” Draco answered, kissing Harry on his cute, pert nose. “Now, we are going to discuss what Pansy and I have done to ruin Greengrass, and I would like for you to tell me what we are going to do about the Weaslette. Then, I am going to snog you senseless and take you on a tour of the Manor before dinner with Mother.”

TBC


	12. Side-Step—Removal of Rivals Should Be Swift and Permanent

**Title:** Wooing the Reluctant – A Side-step to Courting  
 **Author:** Makoto Sagara  
 **Series:** Harry Potter  
 **Archive** : the usual suspects (ffnet, affnet, Foreverfandom, my site, mediaminer, makochanupdates on LJ, thehexfiles, hpfandom, and the harrydraco community on LJ); anywhere else, ask first.  
 **Pairing:** Draco/Harry, past Harry+others, past Draco/others, Oliver/Ginny  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Warnings** : Slash, ooc, angst, language, humour, EWE, mention of femme-slash  
 **Disclaimers:** I don’t own Harry Potter and his friends. They belong to a list of people, including the wonderful JKR, Warner Bros, Scholastic Publishing, Raincoat Books, and others. I’m only borrowing them for entertainment purposes.

**Author’s Notes:** Since the final chapter is going to be dealing with Harry and Draco’s relationship coming to the penultimate finale, I decided that I would have Ginny, Tracey and Daphne’s punishment as a bit of an interlude of sorts. Enjoy! The next chapter _will_ be the last. Thank you for all of the reviews and I hope that you will stick with me until the end of the story. And this chapter is for unneeded on affnet, who rocks my socks!

**Side-step—Removal of Rivals Should Be Swift and Permanent  
When ridding yourself of obstacles, make sure that you are not alienating yourself from your Intended, but _do_ make sure that they will not return.**

Ginny opened the morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_ with bleary eyes. It had been three days since she’d teamed up with Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis at _Shack_ to try and separate Harry from Malfoy. Unfortunately, their plan only worked _partially_.

Harry had been shocked—whether from the fact that Greengrass had been attempting to suck Malfoy’s pointy face off or that Ginny had kissed him so soundly his brain shut down—and when he’d recovered enough, he’d lashed out at Malfoy. _That_ had gone to plan, just as Ginny had counted on. However, Harry leaving _Shack_ and Malfoy following behind him like a kicked puppy _hadn’t_.

_I thought that he was a slag_ , Ginny thought bitterly as she turned the pages to get to the horoscopes and comics. _I was sure that once the promise of sex was waved in his face that he would’ve caved. I know that Harry hasn’t fucked him yet, thank Merlin. He should have cracked._ WHY _didn’t he go off with Greengrass for some easy sex?_

If only Malfoy’s fidelity to Harry and willingness to debase himself had been the end of the story, but it hadn’t. No, Oliver had been upset. Ginny even allowed for him to be so. It wasn’t every day that you saw your fiancée trying to get into the _silk_ pants of the _Chosen One_ —especially if said hero had a history with your fiancée.

Oliver Wood had been a bit of a lark—at first. He was fit, handsome, tall, famous, moneyed, and had that adorable Scottish brogue. Besides, she’d remembered him as the charismatic and driven captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team when she was a young girl. It had been inevitable that they’d run into one another once she’d signed onto the Holyhead Harpies as Chaser—and later as Seeker. After the first match of the Cannons vs. the Harpies, Oliver had found her and asked her out to dinner. She’d accepted, since she knew that Harry was going to be busy doing Merlin knew what, yet again.

However, she’d only remained friends with Ollie while she was engaged to Harry. No, it was her teammate, Chaser Samantha Kicker, who caught her attention and finally excited her enough to bed. The tall, statuesque blonde was all curves and posh accent. And the sex had been phe _nom_ e _nal_. Sam had wrapped Ginny’s pale thighs around her neck and used her tongue in ways that the redhead had only _dreamed_ about. Not to mention she was willing to fuck Gin anywhere and anyway she asked.

However, it had been the blonde’s willingness and Ginny’s increasing sexual appetite that had brought her engagement to Harry Potter crashing down around her ears. Sam had just dropped to her knees and was getting ready to eat Ginny out in Harry’s living room when she heard the handle to the front door jangle and she pushed Sam away. Hastily, she’d explained what was going on to her female lover as she helped her stand up and they were completely straightened when Harry walked into the room.

She’d introduced Samantha to Harry, but the tension in the air between her lover and her fiancé was palpable. By the time Sam left to go back to her flat, Ginny had had a few too many glasses of Harry’s snooty wine and could barely stand to see Sam to the Floo. When she turned around to see Harry staring at her tiredly, she broke down crying. She’d felt so _guilty_ for so long and Harry was so trusting and earnest and handsome and rich and powerful. But, he also had forced her into an unwanted celibacy with waiting until they were married—which he’d said he wanted to put off until his studies were finished and her career was more settled.

When he wrapped his strong, caring arms around her, the dam exploded and she confessed everything—her affair with Sam, her dates with Oliver, and the orgy that she and Sam had attended with some of their teammates after Harry had cancelled a date with her for the fourth night in a row for classes.

For all his infamous temper when they were children, he was completely quiet, almost stone-like.  And then, his jaw had clenched and he told her to leave and that he would talk to her when he’d calmed down.

The week that passed without the weight of her guilt had been amazing. She hadn’t wasted any time in going directly to Sam’s flat and fucking her until they both passed out. Every night after that, they’d gone clubbing with teammates after practice or stayed at Sam’s flat to have takeout and sex until the wee hours. It had been freeing, until she saw Pig flying onto the field, carrying a message from Harry requesting she come to his house to talk over things finally.

By the time she arrived at Grimmauld Place, she could tell that it was the end of their relationship. Instead of feeling sad, she was relieved to be completely free of the burden of being his girlfriend and having the press chase her down for news about him when _she_ was a celebrity in her own right as a dedicated and talented Quidditch player.  He was boring. He wanted to be a Mind Healer and to have a family and to do non-heroic things. As soon as he opened his mouth, she understood everything that he’d said before he actually _meant_ , and she wanted none of it.

When he kept coming at her with his calm, cold demeanour, she snapped and lashed out, slapping him as hard as she could across the face. He looked at her with so much contempt that she thought the floor was going to open up and swallow her. “Fine then,” he deadpanned. “I’ll not be with someone who reacts to irritation with violence. It’s over, Ginny. Keep the ring, but get the hell out of my house and don’t come back.”

Of _course_ , he told Ron and Hermione. And her shrew of a sister-in-law had read her the riot act about her childish and self-destructive behaviour. Ginny had listened to her for maybe three minutes before telling her to fuck off and go away. She’d sent the news to the _Prophet_ , saying that she and Harry had grown apart but still remained amicable. Yes, it was a _bit_ of a lie, but they’d get past it since they were still family. Molly and Arthur would have it no other way. George and Arthur gave her funny looks for a while, but when she started dating Oliver Wood a month after she and Harry broke up, everyone relaxed and they all settled into a new routine.

And things had been going so well with Oliver. He was everything that she thought she’d wanted in her partner and more. It was obvious to everyone that he was crazy about her, and she flourished under his adoration. He hadn’t made her wait to begin having sex. He talked of having a large family once they’d both settled down, and he _wanted_ to take care of her. Within a few months of dating, he’d asked her to marry him, and, despite the niggling thought that he wasn’t what she _really_ wanted, she agreed to it energetically. Everything was perfect and wonderful for Ginny Weasley.

Until Malfoy popped up with the ludicrous assumption that he could be to Harry what no one else—what _she_ —had failed to be to him. As if that whore who fucked anything that moved could seriously keep someone as innately innocent like Harry contented enough to agree to _any_ sort of relationship… The very idea was preposterous, and if he thought he could keep it in his pants long enough to outlast Harry’s need for celibacy before marriage, Ginny would eat Augusta Longbottom’s favourite hat, vulture and all.

And to find out that Harry was taking the prat seriously stung. Even when Harry had dated every male and female their age that didn’t outright throw themselves at him, it hadn’t hurt so much. But, the thought of Harry— _her_ Harry—with that Slytherin whore was worse than anything she could think of.

And the fact that Harry had had the audacity to accept the blond git’s promise ring and kiss him—in full view of anyone who bothered to go to the side garden they’d disappeared to—was more than she could bear. Even the knowledge that Oliver was waiting for her at home couldn’t soothe the pain that she felt. She wanted to strike back at Harry, publicly and harshly. And she’d begun to plot and plan.

One night, during one of the many outings that the Harpies were having before the start of another season, Ginny ran into Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass. The two Slytherin witches were known in many circles as dealers of the highly illegal and highly addictive Ecstasy Potions—more commonly referred to as ExPos—and other magical narcotics, as well as some Muggle drugs for the right price. While their career as drug dealers didn’t really matter to Ginny, other team members were interested in some of their wares.

However, when the two dealers joined the Quidditch players at their table at the club _Order of Merlin_ , she had no problem drinking with them. Despite their shady business, they were lively and engaging, always ready to tell a story and spread gossip. Ginny could only imagine that they were probably much the same in the Slytherin common room back at Hogwarts. _No wonder they have no use for Parkinson. That bitch was always hanging off of Malfoy’s arm like some overgrown puppy._

It was during one of Greengrass’s boasting stories that Malfoy’s name had come up. Evidently, they’d been lovers for a short time, and she kept going on about his prowess and how Harry Potter stood next to no chance of resisting the blond’s charms if he pushed the Boy Who Lived Twice. The brunette was sorely lamenting the opportunity to roll around with Malfoy once more, saying that if he’d asked her to start a courting ritual with him, she might have to turn in something she called a “player card.”

Davis had seconded her friend’s comments about the size of Malfoy’s prick and his skill in the bed, claiming that only days before he’d made the announcement in the _Daily Prophet_ about Potter that he’d fucked her stupid in the bathroom of _Shack_.

It was with vicious pleasure that she’d turned to the two girls and started talking about breaking them up. She’d claimed that she was just worried about how such a rampant slag like Malfoy could truly keep her adopted brother happy in any sort of committed relationship. The two Slytherins had declared that if Malfoy ever got serious about someone like that, they’d go completely legal and start donating to charities. In other words, they were only too willing to help break up the Malfoy-Potter courting, even if it meant helping a Weasley to do so.

However, three days later, Ginny was lamenting that arrangement. Ollie had moved out of their flat and told her to lose the Floo address of his parents’ house. He said he’d contact her later so that she could return the engagement ring. He’d also commented that she should really be ashamed of herself for being such a bitch that she couldn’t have told him that she still carried a torch for Harry, instead of publically humiliating both men and ruining Harry’s relationship with Malfoy because she was a jealous cow.

Ron had looked right through her, refusing to even acknowledge her ever since, even the night before when her family had forced her to admit everything that had happened between her, Harry and Oliver. Hermione, the self-righteous bitch, had told her that she was fed up with Ginny’s selfishness and that if Harry ever talked to her again it was more than she deserved. George and Angelina had left the Burrow without a word. Bill and Fleur had done the same. Percy had decided to lecture her on poor choices and how impetuous decisions would haunt her later. She supposed she should have given his words more thought, but he was such a pompous arse that any good that she might have gleaned from his lecture was lost by her ignoring him completely because of his attitude. Molly had looked at her as if she’d never known her before, and Arthur—her loving and doting father, who had treated her like his little princess her entire life—told her to leave his house and to not come back until she could see why she had ruined their family so badly.

Just as she was about to leave her childhood home, face as red as her hair, a large, scarred hand landed on her shoulder and spun her around. She looked up to see Charlie glaring at her with daggers in his blue eyes. Before she could open her mouth to say anything, he raised the hand off of her shoulder and slapped her with it. “You’re a selfish, self-centred bitch, Ginny,” he whispered heatedly. “Harry and Ollie deserve so much better than you, and at least neither of them learned what sort of a person you were _after_ they’d married you. They can thank Merlin for that small mercy.”

She went to say something and he slapped her again, his face expressionless and cold. She could taste the blood from a small cut on the inside of her cheek, but the look he gave her made her keep her mouth closed, lest he hit her again. “Until you grow up, I have no sister. I can only _hope_ that Harry and Draco find a way to repair their relationship, or else you’ll be responsible for ruining Harry’s happiness twice.”

She should have known that George’s refusal to say anything to her that night meant trouble. Ever since she could remember, when he or Fred had been silent, it was when they were the deadliest, the most Slytherin. So, when she opened the paper—her cheeks still feeling Charlie’s blows—she nearly screamed in rage. Plastered across pages five and six of the paper—the pages usually reserved for the juiciest gossip—was a picture of her and Ollie, a lightning bolt tearing their smiling, happy embrace apart with another of Harry and Malfoy underneath. The headline stared back at her with sickening accuracy, screeching **_“Seeker Weasley Seeks to Ruin Own Engagement by Throwing Self at Ex-Fiancé!!!”_**

It was then that the sound of something striking every window of her flat caught her attention. She’d originally blown it off as a blustery storm, but looking out the kitchen window, she saw a veritable _sea_ of owls waiting to be let in so they could deposit their letters. And a lot of them, to her dismay, were the blood-red of Howlers. She recognized the great big raven that the owner of the Harpies used on official business and wanted to weep.

Instead, she steeled herself for the worst, opened the window and waited for all of the owls to drop the post around her. The only one she bothered to pick up was the one from Cuthbert Cringle, the owner of the Holyhead Harpies. When she was finished reading her termination notice—for being a lying, cheating bitch and poor moral example to young women everywhere, according to Cringle—she was in tears and began numbly opening the rest of the letters around her. She knew then that George had had his say in the matter and that he’d won. She was royally fucked and it was done by her own hand.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As soon as that idiot Potter had shown up with Blaise and Granger at Malfoy Manor, she had no doubt that he’d been thoroughly cowed by his best friends and her fiancé. His famous green eyes followed her best friend like a man dying of thirst followed a mirage of an oasis. His dopey face looked genuinely contrite. However, it wasn’t until Blaise nodded his dark head that she relented and left Draco alone with the bumbling idiot.

Besides, she and Blaise had lives to ruin.

Once they were safely back in her rooms at Parkinson Plantation, she’d let her other half in on Draco’s plan. “You still have those photos we took back in seventh year and a few months ago of Greengrass and Davis’s little _enterprise_.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course, Pans,” Blaise responded happily. “Do tell me that it’s time to use them.”

“Yes, Draco wants us to send them to our favourite insect and to Ron Weasley,” she said with a contented sigh.

“And Weasley won’t question where he got the information from?” Blaise said, a frown marring his handsome face.

“Well, no, because we’ll be sending them from a post office. I’m sure we can bribe the clerk at the office in Hogsmeade to conveniently forget who purchased the services of one of their owls later this afternoon.” Her smile turned just a little cruel as she remembered the terror she, Draco and Blaise had caused the girl who ran the shop back at school. “Besides, if nothing else, Megan Jones is too afraid to tattle, even to Weasley.”

“Yes, I suppose so, and I did hear him whining the other night about the Aurors coming to a dead end in the investigation,” he murmured. “And how did the talk with Draco go?”

“Well, after I made him _bathe_ and groom himself, he was a different creature.” She shrugged inelegantly. “I’m assuming you had to strike Potter at least once?”

“Yes, and I reminded him that he was lucky that it wasn’t you who’d come with Granger and Weasley.”

“Of course he was. He wouldn’t have any genitals left once I’d gotten done with him. Although, doing so would put Draco right off and I’d have to listen to him bitch and moan about it until the end of time. _That_ is why we agreed that you’d see Potter and I’d deal with the prima donna.”

“Very true,” Blaise replied. “Now, shall we cause some mayhem and then go to dinner with Mother. She’s not likely to wait for us overly long.”

“No, Merlin forbid that Adriana Rosier-Zabini-De Puit-Shacklebolt-Arnette-Cringle-Porter-McClellan be left waiting,” Pansy muttered, following her lover out of the rooms and into the middle of a shit storm.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Skeeter, true to her slimy nature, wasted no time in publishing the pictures and finding former Hogwarts students to interview about Daphne and Tracey’s drug dealing. She’d left every source anonymous, citing they were confidential and the Aurors couldn’t get her to divulge the information. Not that they needed it, since they’d arrested the two women hours before the article hit the front page of the _Prophet_ by sheer luck. And, of course, Pansy and Blaise were standing beside the fountain in the Atrium of the Ministry as their former year mates were dragged in, screaming for barristers and about suing the entire Ministry for what they’d done.

When they’d laid eyes upon the happy couple—who were waving at them sarcastically—Greengrass and Davis grew oddly quiet. When Pansy flipped two fingers at Greengrass, however, the drug dealer freaked out and started screaming that it was all a conspiracy and that Pansy Parkinson was behind it all.

Pansy had had to laugh. Daphne was giving her far too much credit, but before Weasley dragged her towards the lifts to be interrogated, she’d sunk the proverbial dagger in between Daphne’s ribs. “Draco says ‘hi, bitch.’”

The pathetic witch burst into tears and had to be carried to the lift by an amused Ron Weasley while the Aurors escorting Tracy Davis had a much easier job with their criminal.

Two weeks later, the Wizengamot had found Davis and Greengrass guilty on fifty charges of dealing in illegal narcotics and three counts of aggravated murder. Their sentence was incarceration in Azkaban for thirty-five years for each murder count and a fine of 500,000 Galleons each. They were swiftly disowned by their families, who were then forced to leave Britain under the cloud of infamy their daughters had left for them.

The only sad part about the whole ordeal was that Astoria Greengrass, who Pansy had asked to be one of her bridesmaids in her upcoming wedding, had to flee the country as well, making Pansy one short for her bridal party. Reluctantly, Potter and Draco had convinced her to ask Gabrielle Delacour to even things up. The things she did for friendship.

TBC


	13. Enjoy Your Time Together

**Title:** Wooing the Reluctant  
 **Author:** Makoto Sagara  
 **Series:** Harry Potter  
 **Archive** : the usual suspects (ffnet, affnet, Foreverfandom, my site, mediaminer, makochanupdates on LJ, thehexfiles, hpfandom, and the harrydraco community on LJ); anywhere else, ask first.  
 **Pairing:** Draco/Harry, past Harry+others, past Draco/others  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warnings** : Slash, ooc, angst, language, **_FLUFF,_** EWE, SMUT  
 **Disclaimers:** I don’t own Harry Potter and his friends. They belong to a list of people, including the wonderful JKR, Warner Bros, Scholastic Publishing, Raincoat Books, and others. I’m only borrowing them for entertainment purposes.

 **Author’s Notes:** This is the last chapter of _Wooing_ _the_ _Reluctant_. Thank you very much for all of the reviews that I have received over the course of this project. I’d also like to extend a special thanks to the wonderful Lomonaaeren for the prompt on the Draco-tops-Harry fest over on Livejournal! I would also like to thank Jamie, Sky, Raintenshi, L, and Jokes for all of their help while I was working on this. You all are awesome ladies and have all of my respect.

**Chapter Twelve - Enjoy Your Time Together  
If you succeed in your courtship, make sure that you both are having fun and remember to get married!**

Harry stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror before him, nervously readjusting his black silk formal robes for the fiftieth time in the last hour. They were beautiful, of course, considering Draco, Pansy and Narcissa were the ones to pick them out. They were as black as pitch, with golden buttons from his throat to his waist. There, they flared out, showing his pressed, black silk trousers and lovely new boots. All Harry had to do was wear them and try not to stain them before the ceremony was over. A hand shot out and smacked his sweaty palms away from the robes’ lapel yet again.

“Harry, I love you dearly, you know that, but if you ruin those silk robes, Narcissa and I will be forced to kill you, not to mention Draco and Pansy,” Molly threatened gently. “And I’m terribly afraid that blood is practically _impossible_ to remove from silk completely, even for house-elves.”

“Sorry, Molly,” he said, blushing furiously. “I just can’t seem to calm down for some reason. I feel like if something else happens today that I’m going to have a nervous breakdown and have to be admitted to St. Mungo’s for life.”

The plump, redheaded woman who he’d come to love and respect as his adopted mother smiled fondly at him as she cast an Anti-Wrinkling charm on his robes and attempted to tame his hair yet again. “It’s okay to be nervous on your wedding day, dear.” She took his hands and led him to a loveseat before sitting down next to him. They were in the room that Narcissa had shown them to that morning so that he could get ready before the bonding ceremony, but not before she told Harry that Draco was in his own room on the other side of the courtyard.

“When Arthur and I got married, it was during the beginning stages of the struggle with the Dark Lord. Your parents were just wee second year Gryffindors and we were barely out of Hogwarts ourselves,” she said with a smile that he couldn’t help but return. “My mother and brothers had to practically cast Full-Body Binds on me to keep me from killing my cousins and running off. Arthur told me that his brother had him in continual Cheering Charms before I came down the aisle.”

“So, what you’re trying to say is that it’s okay if I feel like I’m going to throw up before the day is over?” Harry asked anxiously.

“Yes, that’s perfectly normal, my love,” she said sweetly. “Now, here are the important questions to ask yourself: Do you love Draco?”

“Yes,” he responded fiercely.

“Good,” she said with another fond smile. “Can you agree to the terms of the marriage contract that it took the solicitors _seven_ months to draft?”

“Yes.” Harry _still_ couldn’t believe all the _crap_ that he and Draco had had to endure just so that they could get bonded. Evidently, their living arrangements, financials, and plans for heirs had to be in writing that both of them could agree on, as well as their “families”, before they could get married. _That_ had been difficult, since Draco’s solicitors had insisted that even _Ginny_ okay the contract. Charlie had been the one to ensure his sister’s agreement. However, from what Hermione, Narcissa and Andromeda told him later, it was the shortest time that a contract had gone through the Ministry for a bonding in centuries.

“Excellent. Now, here’s the most important question of all: Do you just want this all over so that you can spend the rest of your life with the man that you love?”

“Are you sure that this ceremony is _absolutely_ necessary?” he asked shakily. “Everyone knows that I love Draco, especially after the rows we had about how big the ceremony was going to be. Why do the reporters and half our year at Hogwarts have to attend something that’s so fiercely _intimate_?”

“Didn’t Draco tell you that they got rid of the public proof of the consummation of the marriage?” Molly asked, looking surprised that the young lord would forget anything that would soothe his fiancé. “I made him _promise_ me he would do that.”

“He did, Molly,” Harry said around a sigh that threatened to make him cry. “I just… I wish it didn’t have to be some stupidly public affair, instead of a small gathering of our friends and family.”

“Harry, love, this is _your_ day, and the rest of the world just wants to share it with you,” Molly replied as she took his hands in her own. “I’m sure there’s a little of Draco trying to show off how beautiful the two of you are together, but we should indulge his quirk for just today’s festivities. You can always have more intimate gatherings for the holidays and birthdays. It _is_ part of the contract after all.” She flashed him a small smile. “Now, are you ready to become one of the happily married?”

“Yes,” Harry hissed tiredly. “I want this day over so that I can curl up with Draco for a long nap.”

“There’s my Harry,” Molly said, patting his cheek before leaving the room to check on how things were going outside. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Draco, do stop pacing,” Narcissa said as she attempted to straighten her son’s formal robes as he passed her. He stopped in front of her to keep the delicate fabric from ripping. “You’re worrying needlessly. Harry is across the courtyard with Molly in his room, just as tradition states. The guests are seated outside. Miss Granger and her husband are waiting on Harry’s side of the platform. _And_ Mipsy informed me a little while ago that Pansy and Blaise have arrived from their honeymoon in Italy and are now on _your_ side of the platform.  The food is waiting for after the ceremony. The flowers and candles are perfectly placed. There is nothing to worry about.”

“There is _everything_ to worry about,” Draco snapped. He looked down at his mother’s beautiful face and saw the way her blue eyes had narrowed and her long, elegant fingers had grasped his robe’s lapels tightly. He sighed guiltily. “I’m sorry, Mother. I just can’t seem to calm my nerves. There is the potential for anything to ruin this day. If _anyone_ tries _anything_ , I may be dragged off to Azkaban instead of showing my new spouse to the suite I picked out for us to live in.”

“I agree that inviting Ginevra Weasley was a bit trying,” Narcissa said after a while. She relaxed both her face and hands, and Draco knew he’d been forgiven. “However, she _is_ a part of Harry’s adopted family, and the invitation could _not_ be kept from her. No matter _how_ much we wished otherwise.” Draco showed his teeth to keep from responding about what he thought regarding Ginevra Weasley. His mother, however, continued speaking as if she didn’t see his aggressive expression. “Molly and Arthur have assured me that she will be on her best behaviour, and since Charles is here, I’m sure she shall remember that she can be removed. Besides, Draco, she _has_ been different since her extremely public firing from the Holyhead Harpies.”

 _That_ information made him smile. Since the luncheon at Harry’s house during the initial courting phase—and after Granger informed him of what happened when the Weasleys confronted their daughter—Draco’s respect for the redheaded dragon tamer grew. Whenever Charlie was home from Romania, Draco made a point of spending time with the burly man. At first, Harry had been jealous—though he’d adamantly denied being so—until Charlie had made his adopted brother attend one of the meetings between himself and Draco. When the former Saviour discovered that Draco and Charlie talked about the dragons in Romania, Harry had left them to their little talks with a lighter heart.

And his mother _was_ right that Ginevra had been truly humbled by her being forced out of the British Quidditch League and being informed that none of the teams on the continent would be willing to take her on, no matter how well she played. It seemed that Harry’s influence reached to more places than he even knew or understood. And while Draco’s soon-to-be life partner didn’t care about it, Rita Skeeter and the rest of the European Wizarding population did—and Draco was willing to use that to his advantage when it came to silly girls.

“Excellent,” Draco nearly purred. _That’s one less problem then,_ he thought. “Mother, please check to see if Harry is ready.”

Narcissa raised one eyebrow at him in a way that made Draco feel as if he was a whingey child who needed a nap. “Of course, my darling,” she said, patting his cheek fondly to complete the feeling.

Narcissa left him alone for a few minutes, and Draco used the time to steel himself for the upcoming ceremony. _This is a basic ritual. We have the official that is related to both of us. And_ how _convenient was it that Aunt Andromeda is registered with the Ministry as a licenced Bonder? Our witnesses are all waiting. I haven’t heard anything suspicious coming from out in the courtyard. Minister Shacklebolt managed to make it, if Mipsy is to be believed. The only thing missing is Father._

“What is the matter, my love?” Narcissa asked as she and Molly Weasley came into the room. “Are you having second thoughts?”

Draco’s head whipped up and he _looked_ at his mother. “No, I was just thinking about Father,” he said blankly.

“Ah, yes,” Molly responded, placing a plump, warm hand on his arm. It was proof of how far their relationship had come that she made the comforting gesture and that Draco didn’t try to shake her off or cut her down with a sharp word. “While I will never forget that he helped murder my brothers, he did an excellent job of helping to raise a good young man with Narcissa. Arthur and I didn’t want you to feel that loss _too_ keenly today, and that’s why he’s waiting with the rest of the family with the guests and I’m acting as Harry’s mother.”

“How is he, Molly?” Draco whispered, feeling warmth for the woman he’d ridiculed as a child so fiercely that he didn’t dare speak louder.

“Nervous, but excited,” Molly answered. “He’s anxious for it to all be over, but I think that’s more because there are reporters here than any real concept of what will happen later.”

Draco didn’t know what to do with that information, since he and Harry had had several fights over why _this_ day had to be made such a huge deal out of once their mothers and Andromeda had most of the ceremony and reception planned. He looked over at his mother, who seemed on the verge of tears. “Mother?”

“I shall be fine, Draco,” she said in a cool tone. “Now, Molly, please make sure that my silly son makes it to his position while I go insure Harry’s appearance.”

“Of course, Narcissa,” Molly said, patting Narcissa’s arm softly before Draco was left alone with the Weasley matriarch. “Are you nervous?”

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” Draco said eventually. “Yes and no?”

“Perfectly normal, dear. Now, let’s get you out there and married, shall we?” Draco nodded and laced Molly Weasley’s arm through his own as they made their way to the double doors of the room.

As soon as they stepped out of the door, a string quartet began playing—hidden behind one of Narcissa’s clever Disillusionment Charms—and Draco looked across the courtyard to see Harry leading his mother out of his room. _The black robes really_ were _a better choice for him,_ Draco thought before he was swept away by the gentle smile that played on Harry’s full lips as the other man noticed him. _A lifetime of that is what I’ve signed up for. I think I can live with that._

Everyone was staring at them, especially as Draco and Harry drew abreast of one another. Draco felt himself drawn into Harry’s bright green eyes—one of the mothers or Granger had managed to convince his fiancé that his golden-framed spectacles would detract and cast a Vision Sharpening Spell, evidently—and a stupidly wide grin take over his face. He barely noticed when Molly let go of him, but, the second his skin came into contact with Harry’s, a shiver of electricity danced upon his spine, a motion that Harry mimicked. _I didn’t think_ that _would happen,_ Draco thought, more determined than ever to drag his spouse off and have him. _He would_ never _have that with anyone else._

A bright golden glow caught his attention and he stared down at his and Harry’s joined hands, seeing that their mothers had already cast the spell that made it impossible for the two of them to drop hands unless they were completely bonded or the ceremony was called off. “Are you ready?” he whispered to a dazed Harry. The black-haired man nodded and allowed Draco to lead him up to the platform where the ceremony would be officiated. To one side, stood Granger and Ronald Weasley and on the other, were Pansy and Blaise. All four of them wore satisfied smiles—not wide and goofy as Draco had expected from Harry’s friends or cold and sharp as Harry had feared from Draco’s. However, the real sight was Andromeda.

Draco’s aunt was splendid in her flowing golden robes that signified her position as Bonder. Her thick, dark hair was blowing gently around her face in the light April breeze. A grin made her otherwise slightly stern features appear soft and young once more. Her dark eyes shone with love and happiness as she looked at both Draco and Harry. It was the first time that she’d shown more than reserved pleasure at the fact that Draco and Harry were to be joined.

A tug on the hem on Draco’s formal robes made him look down. He discovered Teddy standing at his grandmother’s feet, carrying the long, crimson pillow that held all of Andromeda’s tools. The little scamp had made his hair as black as Harry’s, but his eyes were a startlingly clear grey. He’d even managed to change his nose to resemble Draco’s strong patrician one. Merlin, but he had a habit of combining Harry and Draco’s features to near perfection.

Real, fierce love and affection swelled in the blond’s chest before his hand holding Harry’s was shaken, making him pay attention to what was going around him. A quick look at the man by his side let Draco know that he was not the only one affected by Teddy’s carefully sculpted face. A single tear had slid down Harry’s right cheek, and Draco lifted his free hand—the left—to capture the precious droplet.

“May I begin?” Andromeda whispered kindly. Draco nodded and saw Harry do the same. His aunt gave them a small smile before staring beyond them at the witnesses gathered. “My fellow witches and wizards, the bonding of two people very much in love is always a pleasure, but it is an _honour_ when one is asked to preside over the ceremony of a lord. My dearest nephew and sweet Harry did not begin as friends or even as friendly acquaintances. Their courting has been fraught with misunderstandings and arguments. They have found reluctance in both families for their joining. And yet, we see here before us two wizards who have had the good fortune to live through a horrendous war and opposition from many corners so that they can commit their lives to one another.

“As Draco is a lord, there will be something a little different than what most of you are used to, but once we begin, I will ask that you not attempt to interfere with the ritual.” Andromeda paused and looked around the courtyard. Draco did the same, wondering if anyone would be as stupid as to attempt to ruin _his_ day with Harry. No one appeared to breathe too harshly, and some tension seemed to flow out of Draco’s fingertips. “Now, is there anyone who can give a _valid_ reason why they should not be bound for eternity to one another?”

On the word valid, Andromeda’s dark eyes bored holes into Ginevra Weasley’s flushed and sweaty face as she seemed to silently shout and thrash in her chair. Charlie sat next to her, a happy smile on his face and his arms crossed over his stout chest.

No one else moved, and a collective sigh could be heard after a few moments of silence.

“Good. Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy, I am charged with binding you to the wizard at your side for eternity. Are you willing to make this promise to him and in front of the witnesses who have come to share your joy?”

“I, Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy, of the Long and Illustrious Malfoy family, do swear to be bound to my Intended, Harry James Potter, of the Light and Virtuous Potters, Heir to the Black family,” Draco answered with a strong and clear voice.

“And do you swear, upon your magic, your blood, and your name, that you will do everything within your power to make your Intended happy, healthy, and loved until you shall be parted for the Great Beyond?”

“I do so swear,” he answered emphatically.

“Present your free hand,” Andromeda ordered, picking up a silver knife and its accompanying goblet from the pillow that Teddy still held. Draco held out his left hand, palm up, and Andromeda quickly drew the blade across the pad, catching the flowing, crimson liquid in the goblet.

“Present your wand,” she said after Pansy cast a quick healing charm on the cut. He gave his wand to his aunt, who picked up what appeared to be a canister of wood—rowan for its protection properties, Draco knew from studying the ritual—and dropped the hawthorn wand into it with a loud _clack_.

“Present your proof,” Andromeda said. This time, it was Blaise who stepped forward with his final gift to Harry, a ring of silver that was decorated with eagles in shade of pale blue and grey—another Malfoy heirloom. Draco took the ring from his best friend with a quick smile before placing it on the pillow for Andromeda’s approval. “It is sufficient.” Blaise removed the ring and took a step to stand behind the blond.

She aimed her wand at Draco’s heart. “Should you break your word, you will lose all you have. Are you willing to make this promise?”

“I am,” he stated calmly, allowing Andromeda to cast the binding spell on him. Then, she turned to Harry.

“Harry James Potter, I am charged with binding you to the lord at your side for eternity. Are you willing to make this promise to him and in front of the witnesses who have come to share your joy?”

Draco turned to stare at Harry and waited as the magic in the air weighed on him like a heavy mantle.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry could sense the magic surrounding him and Draco and swallowed nervously. _This is what I want and_ he _is who I want,_ he thought darkly. “I, Harry James Potter, of the Light and Virtuous Potters, Heir to the Black family, do swear to be bound to _my_ Intended, Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy, of the Long and Illustrious Malfoy family.” He was surprised at how sure and strong he sounded as the words flowed from his heart.

“And do you swear, upon your magic, your blood, and your name, that you will do everything within your power to make your Intended happy, healthy, and loved until you shall be parted for the Great Beyond?” Andromeda asked.

“I do so swear,” Harry answered.

“Present your free hand,” she ordered, the silver knife in her wand hand again and the goblet in the other. With some reluctance, Harry held out his right hand—palm facing up just like Draco’s had before—and allowed the knife to slice through the skin. He bit back a hiss as his hand began to bleed, but didn’t flinch as his blood poured into the chalice, determined to forget another time his blood had been taken from him.

When their blood had mixed, a faint golden glow could be seen emitting from the cup Andromeda held. He could see the older woman’s surprise as it flashed across her face before she went back to her business face. Hermione rushed over and healed his hand before stepping back next to Ron.

“Present your wand,” Andromeda said shakily. Harry pulled out his trusty holly and phoenix feather wand, watching as Andromeda dropped it into the canister with Draco’s. She snapped the lid shut on that damnable golden light and placed it on the pillow that Teddy still held. Part of Harry’s brain was amazed at the little boy’s calm and made a note to buy him a great present for being such a gentleman throughout the ceremony.

“Present your proof,” Andromeda ordered in a stronger, calmer voice. Harry could feel Ron move to stand next to him, Harry’s gift cradled in his large hands. It had taken some extensive searching through the Potter and Black vaults before he found the perfect thing—a torque of platinum that he’d taken to the goblins in Gringotts and had enchanted to cast Shield Charms and alert Harry in case Draco was attacked—much like the protections in the promise ring Draco had given him at the dinner ages ago. He held his breath as Andromeda inspected it with a critical eye. “It is sufficient.”

His breath escaped his lungs with an audible, relieved _whoosh_ at her announcement while Ron retrieved the torque and stepped back, but he was forced to stand up as straight as possible when Andromeda pointed her wand directly at his heart. “Should you break your word, you will lose all you have. Are you willing to make this promise?”

Harry looked over at the blond still grasping his left hand and felt a rush of love and lust so strong that he was lightheaded. “I am,” he whispered and Draco gave him a smile that could have rivalled the sun for its brightness while Andromeda cast the binding spell on him without hesitation.

“The promises have been made, the oaths taken, but there are a few more steps to go through before we can sit down to break bread.” Andromeda put her wand into her golden robe’s pocket and swirled the goblet a few times. “Lord Draco and his Intended must drink of their mixed blood and magic.”

She held the chalice out to Draco, who accepted it graciously and sipped at the red liquid as if it was a fine wine. The blond then held the cup to Harry, and he took it. Repressing a look of disgust, Harry followed Draco’s example and sipped from the goblet. He was surprised when he didn’t taste the tangy bite of copper, but something sweet and dark, like bitter chocolate almost. Pansy took the goblet from him and handed it back to Andromeda. The older witch quickly cast a Scouring Spell on the silver goblet, getting rid of the blood.

Harry relaxed visibly once that was done and waited patiently for the next part of the ritual. “You are now of the same blood,” Andromeda said sternly before turning to the guests that had been so quiet until now. “To hurt one is to hurt both. Let be so witnessed.”

“So it is, so we say. Let it be written that they are now one,” the crowd returned in a near unison.

Andromeda picked up the wooden canister and pointed her wand at it. “Let your magic be as one,” she intoned, tapping the side before it lit up with that same mysterious golden glow that Harry was already antsy seeing. He didn’t remember that being described in any of the books about the ritual that Narcissa and Hermione had forced him to read during the courting phase with Draco, but the blond didn’t seem to be adverse to its presence. Not even Ron had acted anything but great.

Once the glow had faded a bit, Andromeda opened the canister and held it out in front of Harry and Draco. “Reclaim your birth right,” she said. Quickly, Harry took back his wand, watching with some amusement as Draco retrieved his in a slower, more refined fashion. The familiar holly wand felt as comfortable as before, but Harry could feel Draco’s hawthorn wand as well. It was as if he was holding both wands in the same hand and attempting to gather his magic to cast a spell. At the same time, he could feel Draco’s _presence_ in the back of his mind, just like the books said he would, like a cool breeze wafting through an open window.

“Exchange your gifts,” she ordered. Draco removed the beautiful ring from Zabini’s hand and slipped it to rest next to the dragon ring on Harry’s left ring finger—somehow doing so even though that was the hand he held. Harry took the torque from Ron’s sweating hands and gave his friend a wry smile that the redhead returned before Harry turned around and placed the circlet around Draco’s brow. The platinum only emphasised how light the blond’s hair and features were, making him seem ethereal, almost elfin.

Harry felt a surge of power sweep through him as the magical, golden bonds around his and Draco’s joined hands settled into his skin. It left him with a tingly feeling all over his body, as if he stood next to an area where lightning had struck. And looking over at Draco, he could see his new spouse’s face was just as awed. Harry shook their still linked hands and gave Draco a slight smile which the blond returned.

“You are now one,” Andromeda intoned.

When Draco leaned in, Harry quickly met him. Their lips barely touched before a jolt of their combined magic raced through his body and manifested as a bright, golden glow. He could hear the assembled guests talking in hushed tones, but the only thing he could concentrate on was the nearness of his new husband. “What is that?” he whispered.

“That is the strength of our bond,” Draco whispered, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist. “It is _very_ strong.”

“What happens now?” Harry was breathless. When he and Ginny had broken up, a part of him had given up the thought that he would ever have a strong, happy marriage. To think that it was with this shining, smug prat at his side was a little overwhelming, but in a good way. His entire body tingled with happiness and the sheer _power_ of their magic.

“Aunt Andromeda will introduce us as a married couple, _finally_ , and then we will go to the reception. Afterwards, I will show you to the suite of rooms I had redone for us to live in while we’re here at the Manor.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Harry whispered. And, surprisingly enough, he meant it with all his heart.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The reception had been beautiful, Draco admitted to himself. _Mother and Molly outdid themselves this time. It was better than Pansy and Blaise’s wedding—not that I doubted for a second that it wouldn’t be._

Harry and he had danced, eaten, schmoozed, and kissed throughout the whole thing. His new husband had a hard time keeping his hands to himself during the entire time, and they couldn’t be separated for long without wanting to drag the other off for a few minutes of heavy snogging. Admittedly, Draco _knew_ that as their magic settled down between the two of them that the need to be closer to one another would grow until they consummated their union. Harry, however, seemed so embarrassed every time they were caught kissing and touching each other, despite everyone’s apparent nonchalance at their public displays of affection.

Finally, _finally,_ they were alone in the Manor. Narcissa had gone back to Andromeda’s house with her sister and great-nephew. All of the Weasleys—including the still Silenced Ginevra—had returned to their homes. The rest of the guests had left an hour before Harry and Draco’s families, leaving the two men standing in the grand foyer of the Manor to begin their lives together.

Draco turned to Harry with a tired smile. “I thought they’d never leave,” he teased. “Although, I’ll be completely honest and say that this day was fun, but tiring. I am completely knackered.”

“I know,” Harry replied, sounding just as tired as Draco felt. He let out a delicate little moan as Draco wrapped his arms around him. “Today has _got_ to be the longest day of my entire life.”

“It’s not over yet, Harry,” Draco whispered, garnering him another groan—this time of distaste—from his new _husband_. Just thinking the world and associating it with Harry Potter in his arms made Draco feel as if he was the luckiest man on the face of the planet. He shook his head, partially to clear the soppy thought and partially at Harry’s annoyance. “Now, now, none of that, Mr Potter; I’ll have none of that. I’ve to show you to our rooms yet and then there is the wedding _night_.”

“We’re…we’re not going to use the rooms that you were using before?” Harry asked, spinning in Draco’s loose hold suddenly. “I thought those rooms were lovely when I saw them before.”

“Yes, but those were my—what did Granger call them—my bachelor digs, I believe. These will be _our_ rooms, for our lives together as a married couple. And when we have children, they can have those rooms to themselves. However, they’ll go to the Malfoy heir when the time is right.”

“Oh.” If Draco didn’t know any better, he would have said that Harry sounded almost…disappointed. “So, lead the way, oh light of my life, my raîson d’etre.”

Idly, Draco wondered where Harry had learned French, since from all accounts, Harry had never left Britain, but he focused on the rest of his silly statement. “Dear Merlin, if you begin talking like that, Harry Potter, I believe our union might be one of the shorter ones in Malfoy history.”

“There’ve been shorter?” Harry asked with a cheeky smile.

“Yes, you prat,” Draco responded fondly, placing a chaste buss to Harry’s forehead before taking his hand and leading him towards the Grand Staircase. “My great-great-great-great-great-great uncle married a Muggleborn. He brought her directly to the Manor to introduce her to his parents. _She_ was cursed into a toad and released into the wild. _He_ was turned into a footstool. I believe that Father used that footstool in his study for many years until…we had our unfortunate houseguests that year. I have no idea if it’s still there, however. I haven’t entered it in years, not even to remodel it.”

“Your ancestors really _did_ that?” Harry, true Gryffindor that he was, was aiming to become rather unhappy and loud. Draco wanted to avoid that at any cost, at least for the night. It was just not _on_ that they would begin their lives as a married couple fighting.

“Well, yes,” Draco answered carefully. “His parents were harsher on their child because, as a Malfoy, he should have known better of what was expected. The girl, I later found out, married a nice Muggleborn and they produced a passel of brats to rival the Weasleys in number and noise.”

“It seems rather sad that it happened that way,” Harry said as he calmed down. “Why were his parents to dictate how they would be happy?”

“Well, he would have been disowned by the entire family and publicly ignored. Back then, one just didn’t _take up_ with Muggles or Muggleborn. The danger was still too great of being exposed to the Muggles.”

“What about Half-bloods?” Harry asked coolly. Oh, yes, his husband’s back was _up_ with righteous indignation and, perhaps, a tiny smidgeon of worry that he would be found wanting, even after so long in the Wizarding world.

“Depending on the family of the pureblooded parent and the reputation of the other parent, they might have been accepted,” Draco replied wearily. _This is hardly a conversation that one has on one’s wedding night, but I suppose that it is_ my _fault for_ not _having it with Harry long before now._ “You, no doubt, are universally loved by my stuffy, idealistic ancestors. I thought the tour through the portrait gallery was proof enough of that. Even Grandfather Abraxas can tell you are powerful, and the Potters have always been a respectable family, even with your mother being a Muggle-born. She was intelligent and beautiful. More importantly, she was willing to live as a witch in _our_ world.”

Harry sniffed as if he had been slighted but he took one of Draco’s hands and squeezed it. “So, these rooms, how far away are they?” The deep tone and the underlying heat of Harry’s voice made the exhaustion that threatened to take Draco over recede quickly.

“Too _bloody_ far,” Draco whispered, leaning down to snog the hell out of Harry. Hands made their way into his mussed hair—despite the fact that he’d not yet removed the torque Harry’d gifted him during the ceremony—and a well-muscled, fit male body melded to his own quickly. He bit into Harry’s soft lower lip and Harry opened his mouth, allowing Draco to swipe his tongue inside. _There_ it was—his new favourite taste, Harry—making his knees weak and his control waver. “Too far,” he muttered before Apparating them to the bedroom of their suite.

He heard Harry gasp but ignored it in favour of undoing the column of tiny golden buttons that held Harry’s formal robes closed. As he reached Harry’s sternum, the dark-haired man _finally_ reacted _._

“ _Draco_ ,” he moaned as his hands reached to remove the circlet from Draco’s brow, throwing it and his glasses haphazardly. Then, his strong hands began undoing the silver buttons on Draco’s own robes. The sound of ripping fabric registered in the blond’s brain, but he ignored it so that he could release the last button resting above Harry’s belt buckle. He deftly released the buckle and began the work of undoing the snaps that held Harry’s black trousers closed.

Harry shoved him away, and Draco glared at his lover, ready to fight if Harry was determined to stop the consummation. However, he took in the heaving, broad chest, flushed skin, and trembling hands—as well as the obvious erection—and knew that it was only a matter of seconds before Harry exploded in a fit of blinding passion.

He was not disappointed. Harry waved his wand at his boots, untying them with a speed that would have made Granians jealous. His formal robes hit the soft, thick carpet after tucking his wand into one of the pockets, followed quickly by the white undershirt and black trousers. And Draco could do nothing but stare at Harry in nothing but his socks and a pair of light blue silk pants—and the wet patch that graced the elastic waistband of said pants.

Harry was everything that Draco had been fantasizing of for the last eight months. Broad, muscled shoulders and chest—surprisingly hairless; pert, brown nipples that practically begged for Draco to take them between his teeth and tug; flat abs; trim waist; a tantalising trail of dark hair that started at Harry’s navel and disappeared into his boxer shorts; trim thighs that would soon be wrapped around Draco’s waist; calves that could have been sculpted from marble; and long, delicate feet that were still encased in black silk dress socks—all of these features made the blood in Draco’s body heat and his heart pound in anticipation, but it was the look of uncertainty on the face that he loved that made him undress himself slowly.

Draco knelt down and untied his boots with a deliberate slowness he’d perfected over the years. Then, he removed them and his own dress socks before finishing unfastening the tiny silver buttons of his formal robes and letting it hit the floor not far from Harry’s own, exposing his bare chest and feet to his lover. He looked up through his lashes to see green eyes burning into him with impatience. He gave Harry a sexy smirk—he knew it was sexy, dammit—and pulled his belt through the loops. He dropped the strip of Italian leather.

When his hands touched the tie-string of his trousers, he heard Harry’s breathing speed up. Draco looked up and saw that the tips of Harry’s ears and his cheeks, neck and chest had begun to flush. “Would you like to help me, _husband_?”

“Y-yes,” Harry croaked before lunging forward and clumsily ripping at the strings as he kissed Draco just as messily. The fabric ripped under the violent, clumsy assault and Draco practically purred under the attention.

 _Windy will have to repair those before they can be worn again,_ Draco thought idly, stepping out of the torn fabric to stand nude before his lover. Well, there was the surprised gasp from Harry when he realised that Draco hadn’t been wearing pants the entire day.

His lover did not disappoint in his admiration either. His green eyes blazed as they swept over every inch of Draco’s body. He noticed when Harry spotted the fading Dark Mark on his left arm, but he quickly moved on. They softened as they caressed Draco’s chest, obviously spotting the _Sectumsempra_ scars. “Draco,” Harry whispered sadly.

“No,” Draco said forcefully as he moved over to wrap his arms around Harry’s waist. “You will not do that tonight. I’d forgiven you a long time ago, love. There is no room for guilt right now.”

“How can you do that?” Harry asked in a quiet, tiny voice.

“Have you forgiven me for all the cruel, petty things I said and did to you when we were children?” Draco responded.

“I almost killed you. That’s so much worse than a few petty pranks and nasty words.”

“I tried to use the _Crutiatus_ on you, but, thanks to Uncle Sev, I lived after that meeting between us. Besides, it was _you_ who saved me from the Fiendfyre, not even a year later. And it was _you_ who testified at my trial, keeping Mother and I from Azkaban. It was your testimony that saved Father from the Kiss as well. There is nothing between us but what we wish for it to be, and that is love and desire and passion.” Draco took the opportunity to slip Harry’s boxers down his hips to pool at his feet. “Let’s go to bed.”

Harry nodded his dark head, allowing Draco to lead him over to the giant four-poster bed. It wore the same sky-blue velvet hangings that the bed in his previous rooms had and the elves had made sure that they’d put new white silk sheets. However, it was not the same bed. He could not allow Harry to lie in any bed that a previous lover had touched. No, this bed was brand new, imported from California and made out of the beautiful redwoods that grew there. When Harry was situated amongst the soft, fluffy pillows, Draco removed his socks, kissing the soles of his feet reverently.

“You are so beautiful,” Draco whispered as he slowly kissed his way from Harry’s feet to his calves to his thighs before stopping to nibble on the delicate hipbones. He smiled as Harry’s erection tapped his chin, almost as if demanding him to hurry up and take care of it. “So very, very beautiful you are, my Harry.”

“Dra~aco,” Harry panted. “ _Please_.”

How he’d waited to hear Harry begging him, at his mercy, desiring him with every bone and ounce of magic in his beautiful, strong body. It was the most powerful thing he’d ever experienced, and yet it was nothing as he’d imagined when the idea of courting Harry Potter had occurred to him last July. It was beyond the scope of his imagination. And he would spend a lifetime trying to make it happen over and over and over again.

He looked up the length of his lover’s body to see Harry _staring_ at him with eyes so blown with lust they were black. Draco flashed him a cheeky smile before licking the entire length of his cock, wringing a groan so primitive that Draco’s erection twitched against his thigh. Again, Draco ran his tongue from tip to root, watching the way Harry’s eyes fluttered and the sweat gathering on his brow. When he swirled his tongue around the head of Harry’s cock, his dark-haired lover let out a moan so wanton that Draco had to pull away before he came.

“Draco?” Harry asked. He seemed worried and his cock felt just the teensiest bit softer than it had just a second ago.

“I’m okay, Harry,” Draco whispered, moving up to kiss his lover softly, sweetly in an attempt to rein himself in. _Merlin, I haven’t been this wound up since I was in fourth year at Hogwarts._ He shook his head wryly. _What is it about Harry that reduces me to an idiotic, bumbling teenager?_

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The things that Draco did with his tongue were enough to drive any man insane. _I suppose that’s one of the benefits of having an experienced lover,_ Harry thought sardonically as Draco kissed him over and over, sweet kisses that made his brain a little fuzzy but made the urgency of their love-making slip away. As he kissed Draco back, he could feel the blond’s fine, long-fingered hands roaming over his bare chest and arms almost reverently. _It’s like he’s trying to memorise every detail because we won’t be doing this again. If he promises to do the tongue thing again, I can guarantee that we_ will _be doing this many times over._

The sensation of Draco’s teeth grazing his throat was like liquid fire. Suddenly, Harry’s brain shut down all rational thoughts and he just let himself _feel_. Those sharp teeth latched onto the patch of skin behind Harry’s left ear and Draco began sucking as his hand moved down to caress Harry’s stomach and hips, avoiding his cock pointedly. It was maddening and exciting and nothing like he could have imagined. “Draco, please, stop teasing,” he pleaded, digging his hands into the blond’s hair and tugging his head up to kiss him brutally.

Draco responded by forcing both of Harry’s hands above his head and using one of his own to keep them captive. The blond reached over for his wand, casting a nonverbal Summoning Spell for a rather exquisite-looking pot of oil that smelled strongly of cherries and almonds as it smacked into his hand. Harry felt as Draco’s magic, normally gently buzzing under the surface of his lover’s skin, sparked—sort of like the effect of sticking a fork in a Muggle socket.

Even after reading the many books about homosexual sex that Hermione had pressed upon him as the wedding grew closer and closer, Harry still wasn’t ready for the vulnerable feeling that threatened to overwhelm him as Draco opened his thighs with an insistent knee or the brush of slick fingers at his entrance. He knew that Draco was going to use his fingers to stretch his anal cavity in preparation for the actual penetration of the rock-hard erection the blond sported. Knowing that, however, didn’t stop the wave of anxiety that washed over him, making his arousal wane. He began to struggle in the blond’s hold, trying valiantly to escape.

“Shhhhh, Harry,” Draco whispered gently. “I’ll stop, if you want, but please don’t make me.”

Harry looked up into his husband’s eyes, seeing for the first time the hints of pain in the way his lips thinned as he stared down at him. All of a sudden, Harry’s body softened and he stilled his fighting. _Draco wouldn’t hurt me,_ he thought with relief.  _I just don’t think we’ll be engaging in any bondage._ “Just…let my arms free, Draco,” he replied.

As if remembering the story Harry had told him about the graveyard, Draco pulled back his hand from Harry’s bound limbs as if burned. Harry wrapped them around Draco’s neck and gave him a gentle, reassuring kiss. He felt the other man’s body relax as it settled softly, carefully against his own, erections meeting and breaking the kiss as they both gasped. “Need to be inside you,” Draco whispered raggedly, sweat dripping down his face to land on Harry’s shoulder.

“Well, get on with it,” Harry teased, running a hand through the blond’s sweat-darkened strands. “We won’t be truly bound until you fuck me into the mattress, Malfoy.”

Draco pulled back with his familiar, sexy smirk firmly in place. “Is that a challenge, Potter?”

“Always,” Harry shot back.

To say that he was unprepared for the way that Draco snatched up the abandoned oil and pulled out a hand that literally dripped with the sweet-smelling liquid would have been a vast understatement. However, by the time the blond’s coated fingers touched his entrance, Harry was ready. He took deep breaths as the first digit began its intrusion, slowly and gently. After a few long moments of the only sound being their heavy breathing and an odd squelching, a second digit joined the first. It was then that Harry noticed a stinging sensation.

 _It’s a little like walking through a briar patch,_ he thought offhandedly. All thoughts fled when Draco leaned down to kiss him possessively while curling his fingers as they pumped in and out of Harry’s body. Suddenly, white spots appeared behind Harry’s tightly shut eyes, making him scream into the kiss Draco was still giving him. _What the_ fuck _was that?_

Harry could feel Draco’s lips curl up into a smug grin as his fingers abused the spot that made Harry’s brain shut down and a needy, primal sound emitted from the back of his throat. He could _feel_ a third finger enter him, but Draco’s tongue was curling around his own at the same time and all Harry could do was try to use his legs, which had somehow ended up around Draco’s waist, to pull the blond’s body closer to his own. “NOW!” he yelled as Draco stimulated his prostate yet again.

Draco didn’t seem to need any more encouragement as he began coating his cock with oil and the blunt tip was quickly replacing his fingers. Harry barely had time to mourn the bereft feeling he had before a bigger appendage slowly opened him up. A little whimper left between his lips and Draco stopped his intrusion.

“Relax, Harry,” he said gently. “It’s going to hurt if you’re tense.”

Harry nodded his sweaty head, but it was difficult to make himself achieve the nearly boneless feeling he’d had only moments before. His lover seemed to be able to sense that and slipped his still lubed hand between their bodies and wrapped it around Harry’s flagging cock.

The sensation of the blond’s slightly calloused hand alternating quick tugs and slow strokes on his prick brought it back to a fully alert state and allowed Harry to relax enough to ease the rest of Draco’s own arousal into the dark-haired man’s body. He felt completely full for the first time in his life, as if his body couldn’t possibly take anything else.

“I hope you’re ready for me to pound you into this bloody mattress, Potter, because if I don’t move, I’m going to go insane,” Draco said between clenched teeth.

“Go then,” Harry moaned.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Those were the words Draco had been waiting for since he’d taken Harry to bed. He pulled nearly all the way out of the tight, clinging heat that was his lover before slamming back home. He made sure to try and angle up a bit. He knew he’d hit his mark when Harry screamed out and his blunt nails dug into the flesh of Draco’s biceps. Determined to have more than just that one little noise, Draco did it again, eliciting a heady moan from his lover that sounded suspiciously like “Fuck yes.”

Draco set a fast pace, knowing that he couldn’t take much longer of being inside Harry before he shot his load. He stilled both his hand and his hips before he could get them on the same rhythm of stroking Harry inside and out. Every time he hit Harry’s prostate, the dark-haired man let out a string of incoherent babbling.

Draco shortened his strokes, making sure to use his other hand to finally reach down and pinch Harry’s sensitive nipples—something he’d discovered Harry loved during one of their more intense snogging sessions during their courtship. As he held the little pert nub of flesh, he hit Harry’s prostate.

“FUCK! YES! DRACO!” Harry screamed before his body tensed and his back arched, shooting milky-white semen all over the place.

An intense, vice-like grip was what Harry’s arse felt like as he orgasmed, tearing Draco’s own climax from him like a piece of cheap cloth. He slowed down his thrusts while yelling Harry’s name as he was wrung dry of what seemed like every drop of moisture in his body before he collapsed on top of Harry in a spent, sweaty heap. “Fuck,” he panted.

“Is it always like that?” Harry asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence. One of his hands was back in Draco’s hair, petting him like a great big cat.

 _Is he serious? If it was always like that, I’d never be able to move,_ Draco thought without any heat. “Never,” he said honestly. “Only you, Potter.”

“I like the way that sounds,” Harry said smugly.

Draco couldn’t help but smile. “Me too. Me too.” He let out a huge yawn that nearly cracked his jaw. “After a little kip, we’ll start round two.”

“Mmmm,” Harry muttered, already falling into a deep sleep.

 _You were definitely worth all the effort, Potter,_ Draco thought soppily as he placed a sweet kiss to Harry’s sweaty temple. _And if we’re lucky, there will be many more nights of little sleep._

Carefully, he slipped out of Harry’s arse—getting naught but a slight protest from Harry as he did so—and collapsed next to his sleeping lover. He wrapped his arms around the other man with a self-satisfied smile before Morpheus helped him join Harry in slumber.

~ Finite ~   
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